We Own the Night
by Liisi Laukkanen
Summary: Tara left home to live with her aunt in Santa Carla, needing a change of scenery. What she didn't need was a tall, dark and handsome vampire - no matter how much he insisted on flirting with her. [Dwayne/OC] [Paul/OC2] [spin off of 'The Good, the Bad, and the Undead, my Paul/OC fic] - ON HIATUS, see profile for more info.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is more like a prologue just to set things up and introduce Tara before the next chapter, which should be triple the length of this one. This story is a kind of sister-story to The Good, the Bad, and the Undead, my Paul/OC story, so it will feature my OC from that, but it shouldn't be necessary to read that to understand this. I'm hoping to have the next part up by the end of the week!**

"I don't want you to go."

Tara could barely bring herself to look at her little sister, Emma, who stood in the doorway with tears in her big blue eyes.

"…I know, Em," Tara sighed eventually "I know. But you saw what happened last week. I can't stay here. Nobody's happy."

Tara had called 'world war 3' in her head, but she doubted her sister would get the joke. Things between Tara and their dad had been going south for a while (ever since the event she referred to as 'the event which must not be discussed with anybody, ever') and it reached a boiling point, inevitably. This was the result. She was leaving home in New York to live with her aunt, their mom's sister, in Santa Carla and help her run her café there.

" _I_ won't be happy when you're gone!"

Slowly, Tara lowered the dress she'd been folding before she approached the five year old, dropping down to one knee in front of her.

"I'm gonna stay with aunt Carolina in California for a while, but that doesn't mean we'll be separated, okay?" she spoke conspiratorially, standing and gesturing for Emma to follow "Close the door behind you."

The girl did so and Tara smiled at the anticipation on her face. She just hoped she could keep the mood light-hearted – the last thing she wanted to do was get emotional and upset Emma even more.

Tara moved towards her desk, the one she did all of her crafts on, and picked up the two trinkets that sat there. Emma had found small unoccupied space on Tara's bed, and Tara carefully moved some clothes to the floor before joining her sister and producing the first object. In the palm of it rested an earring, with a small silver butterfly with vibrant green wings dangling from it.

"Do you know who this belonged to?" Tara asked gently.

Emma's face told her all she needed to know, as she stared at the earring in awe "Mommy?"

"Uh-huh," she made a display of putting the earring in one of her ears "And now she'll always be with me, see?"

Emma was enthralled by this idea, and Tara smiled despite the lump in her throat, taking a deep breath in before she could continue.

"And this butterfly," she gestured to her ear "Has a twin. You don't have your ears pierced, but I guess they realised that because look what happened…"

She'd spend the previous night removed the butterfly from the other earring and attaching it to a hair clip. Carefully, Tara took it from her pocket and almost breathed a sigh of relief when Emma's face lit up with joy.

"And now," she put the clip into her sister's hair "Because we both have one, not only will we always be with mom, but we'll always be together too."

"Does dad have one?" Emma asked innocently.

"No, it only works for girls, so we need to keep it a secret or he'll get jealous…Don't tell Alison either, okay?" she whispered, holding out her pinkie.

Emma entwined it with hers, a wide toothy grin on her face that made Tara's heart melt. She quickly pulled the girl in for a hug so that she wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"Now these butterflies aren't like phones, okay? I won't be able to talk to you, but I _will_ know when you're sad and I'll be sending you big hugs through them, okay?"

"Can I send you hugs when you're sad?" Emma asked very seriously.

"Of course you can, kid."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I got some bad news at the start of summer, and honestly didn't write anything at all for a solid six or seven months after that. But I'm back, and I** _ **must**_ **make writing a top priority now. It helps that I'm back at uni and have writers as teachers inspiring and encouraging me nearly every day of the week.**

Life in Santa Carla was good. Hell, life anywhere away from her father was fucking golden, as far as Tara was concerned. But Santa Carla? She'd been there a week and already fallen in love with the place. The beach, the boardwalk and its quirky stores and stalls, the ocean view that followed her no matter where she went. The undisputed winner, though, was her aunt's cafe.

Fittingly named 'The Hideout', the small cafe (or 'tea shop, as Carolina insisted on calling it) was just towards the end of the boardwalk - near enough the chaos to draw in customers, but not close enough for it to be chaotic itself. Carolina, an early bird, had given Tara 'the night shift', four pm until ten pm, with three days a week off. Tara barely even considered it a job. The end of the day was a little busy, with tourists stopping in for a snack and a drink before going back to their hotels to get changed for the nighttime, but other than that the place was a graveyard for the most part. Just enough regulars stopped by to give Carolina the incitement to keep it open that late.

The best thing about The Hideout was its history. Before Carolina had bought it, it was some kind of terrible 50s style diner (Tara still shuddered at the memory of the 'before' pictures her aunt had shown her), and so the task of transforming it from the garish nightmare it used to be, to the cozy and warm shop it was now wasn't something one person alone could achieve, but Carolina had pretty much been dead broke because of the price of the shop alone, and paying guys to renovate it for her wasn't an option. So one summer the phone had rang, and Tara and her mom had both been invited to spend the summer in Santa Carla to give Carolina a helping hand gutting the place and changing it into something that wouldn't leave her customers with nightmares or bleeding eyes.

That summer had easily been the best one of Tara's life. Her dad, although they'd still been close back then, had stayed back in New York to care for Emma, who was a toddler at the time, so it had just been her, her mom and Carolina. They'd spend the days working their asses off, and the nights being too tired to do anything other than order pizza and watch movies. The downside of this was that they hadn't actually seen much of Santa Carla itself, or its famed nightlife, but in hindsight the time with her mom was more than worth that. Tara suspected her mom had feigned a lot of the tiredness on purpose, to try and keep her off of the boardwalk- she hadn't missed the concerned stare her mom would always give the 'MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD' graffiti every time they passed it. However at that time, she'd already been sick and "cured" once, and if her mom said she needed to rest and would rather watch a movie with her than go out, nothing could make Tara question it. At the end of the summer, Carolina made them promise they'd come back the next summer - this time with her dad and Emma - and they'd all truly experience Santa Carla together. But by the next time summer came, her mom started getting sick again. This time none of it was feigned.

Tara shook her head, dispelling those memories before they could fully hit her. She'd much rather focus on the ones The Hideout held. The little smudge of burgundy paint on the edge of the ceiling, caused by her mom when her hand had slipped as she laughed at one of Tara's jokes. The booth in the corner that they always sat at in the afternoon - mainly because for a while it was the only one that was there. The quirky red chandelier that had a couple of strings of crystals missing, because Carolina had caught her admiring them and detached them to make into earrings for her. Tara still had them.

Perhaps creativity ran in the blood of her mom's side. God knew they were the only ones who supported her. Her dad used to. Now it was just Carolina. Luckily, her aunt took 'supportive' to a whole new level.

The only thing that was different about the cafe when Tara arrived, was a small but charming wooden vintage jewellery stand, sitting on the corner of the counter where customers would go to pay. At first she hadn't batted an eyelid - Carolina was like a magpie. Anything that she found pretty, she gave a home on some part of flat space, either in the cafe or in the flat she lived in above it. Then her aunt saw what she was looking at.

"It's yours," she said, gesturing towards it as she led her towards the counter.

"I...Thank you?" Tara replied, a little confused.

It was gorgeous, but a jewellery stand was an odd gift, and the fact that she'd brought it down to the shop was even stranger.

"I'm not done," Carolina smirked "I got it for you so you can sell your jewellery."

Tara's heart stopped and her jaw dropped.

Carolina continued "I figured you could make it in your free time and then hang it here. People are bound to take an interest - tourists needing souvenirs, etcetera, etcetera. Push it on 'em while they're paying, and whatever you make from it, you keep. Obviously."

Hugging her tightly, Tara must've thanked her aunt at least twenty times in a row, and Carolina graciously pretended not to notice how she was tearing up. A week in, there were now a decent amount of necklaces and bracelets hanging from the small ornate hooks, complete with small scrawled price tags. Every so often after one of her own shifts, Carolina would give her a handful of dollars, saying they came from jewellery that was sold whilst she wasn't there, but so far not much interest had been shown in them whilst Tara was there. She half wondered if Carolina was buying them herself to reassure her. Then again, her aunt probably had a better sales pitch than her almost non-existent one. Not that it bothered her. Tara would happily pay to be able to spend a few hours each night painting miniatures to go on necklaces, or stringing together trinkets for bracelets - and so far she was, considering her lack of profit. Nobody ever became an artist for the money, and it was a good job they didn't. There pretty much was none.

No, it wasn't money that Tara found herself seeking. It was friends. After everything went to shit back in New York, her friends became her new family. Night after night she'd lie in bed, listening carefully for the tell-tale signs of her father and Alison getting ready for bed, and then she'd sneak out of her bedroom window and down the fire escape where there'd be a group of at least five waiting for her down below. Usually she didn't bother returning until well into the next morning. Why should she? The only reason she was there at all was for Emma. Her group had been incredibly tight-knit, offering her a couch to crash on here and there when things got really bad. She still loved them dearly, but what good was that when they were all three thousand miles away? Talking on the phone wasn't the same.

The first week in Santa Carla was more than enough time to settle into a comfortable routine. After rolling out of bed at whatever time suited her (on the days she didn't have to help out with the baking for the cafe), she'd grab breakfast and work on her art for a handful of hours. Afterwards she'd wander the boardwalk, either the beach or the shops depending on her mood, and wait until it was late enough to call a friend or two from back home - they'd promised to try and give her updates on Emma if they could. It's not like her father would bother. After that it was working in the shop, taking orders, working the cash register, cleaning tables. Only one other person, Carolina's boyfriend, Johnny, worked in the cafe at the same time as her, and he dwelled in the kitchen preparing the hot meals when they were ordered, so she usually had the front of the place to herself. It was too dead during her shift to justify hiring more people for those hours. Luckily, the emptiness of the place meant she could usually read or work on more jewellery during her shift, only needing to keep one eye on the customers. Her time after her shifts were spent with Carolina, with Johnny making guest appearances, and whatever was on TV that night.

Tara did adore her aunt, and they were close, but she was just that. Her aunt. They couldn't get wasted together and snicker over dirty jokes. There was no opportunity to indulge in her immature, stroppy side without getting some kind of life lesson in return…and if she was being completely truthful, sometimes the similarities between Carolina and her mom made her too difficult to be around. On those nights she went to bed early. But how did one make friends as an adult? Usually the answer would be "at work", but she was shit out of luck there, and Santa Carla was too much of a touristy town for any of the faces to become that familiar. It was tough, but Tara knew she'd either get over it or find a solution. Those were her only two real options anyway.

* * *

 _The Lost Cave_

Paul was making a series of noises into his pillow that sounded eerily close to a pissed off housecat.

"Didn't quite catch that," Cat snickered, tightening the laces on her boots.

The bedding rustled behind her, and a pair of warm bare arms wrapped around her torso "Come back to bed."

Leaning back into his chest, she tilted her head and grinned at him "Ohhh, _that's_ what you want me to do. See, I didn't quite gather your meaning the first twenty times you asked me to."

"Think of it more as a demand, babe," Paul buried his face in her neck and began to slowly drag her backwards onto the mattress.

"Paul, you asshole!" she giggled, trying to squirm out of his vice-like grip.

"Mmm, I love you too."

"Let go of me!" kicking her legs fruitlessly, she eventually gave up and allowed him to drag her back into the bed, boots and all.

" _Thank you_ ," he sighed dramatically as she curled up against him and they settled back down into the bed.

After a few moments, his grip slackened just the slightest bit and it was all she needed. Springing from the bed, Cat couldn't help but smile at his annoyed groan.

" _Catriona_. Light of my life, my love, owner of the finest rack in the world," he ground out sarcastically, sprawling onto his back and squinting up at her in the dim candlelight "It's the ass crack of dusk. Come back to bed."

"And they say romance is dead."

"Undead."

She couldn't not laugh at that, and he relented enough to give her a bleary-eyed, crooked smile. Reaching an arm out, Paul continued.

"C'mere."

"It's finally dark enough, _early_ enough for me to make it there in time for the lunch menu," Cat shook her head "I swear I've been dreaming of those halloumi wraps all summer."

"What the fuck is a halloumi?" he muttered, clearly not appreciating her logic.

"Tasty enough for your wiles to be ineffective, I'm afraid," she snickered, shrugging her jacket on, making sure to stay out of his reach this time "If you're fast enough I'll save you some."

"You cruel, heartless woman."

"I love you too," she mimicked his earlier words.

After blowing him a kiss (and getting flipped off in return), she left the alcove. A couple of years or so after her brother had found out the truth, it seemed that the tea gods had heard Cat's prayers and saw fit to grant her what she wished for. This came in the form of a small, cozy tea shop called The Hideout. The boys still made fun of her reaction when she'd first tried some of the tea sold there ("I think that just did more for her than you ever have," Marko had snickered at Paul.) Since then she'd gone on an almost nightly basis, with the exception of the times she'd take pity on the boys, who tolerated the place for her sake, but made it clear it was hardly their scene, and keep herself away for a week or two. The last week had been one of those times, and she was dying to get back.

"Hey, Cat! Wait up!"

Dwayne's voice reached her just as she was leaving the cave. Out of all of her brothers, he was the one who least minded The Hideout. She half suspected he was glad she gave him an excuse to go without getting shit from the guys for it.

"Oooh, I won't be dining alone?" she paused, waiting for him to catch up.

"Knowing you, you'd just wind up in some kinda trouble if you did," he nudged her in the side when he did, barely dodging the half-hearted slap to his arm in response.

"I need to go to the post office first," Cat shook her head as they continued on their way "Jamie's letter should've arrived by now."

"Oh," Dwayne paused a little "If you want to be alone-."

"Don't be silly," she shook her head with a smile "It'll only take a second."

Other than immortality, the PO box that Paul had set up for her all those years ago had been one of the most life-changing gifts he'd ever given her. Since then, she and Jamie had been writing to each other relentlessly - although this meant that she usually only got a letter (or sometimes a parcel containing gifts, or things he'd smuggled out of her old room back home) once a month, by the time her response to the UK arrived, and then his response got back to her. Still, she would've adored it even if she only got a letter once a year. It had allowed them to maintain some kind of relationship, and gave her a source of information back home, so she didn't feel totally cut off from her family.

Her brothers were surprisingly awkward, albeit accepting, when it came to the topic of her family. She was unsure if it was because of all of the trouble that had been caused when Jamie showed up in Santa Carla, if they thought she wanted to keep it private and separate from them (which couldn't be further from the truth), or simply because they weren't used to one of them still having connections to their old life. The only time they'd get up and leave her to her own devices without question, or even really being asked, was when she had a letter from home in her hand. That was another benefit of The Hideout - it gave her a quiet place to read and reply to the letters. The cave hardly had a writing desk that she could use, anyway. The closest she could get to a writing space was the edge of the fountain.

"If you're sure," Dwayne shrugged, and with that they were on their way, Cat barely able to contain her excitement at the thought of another letter to add to her collection.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I didn't expect to have the next part posted so soon, but I was on a roll and didn't see the point on sitting on it if it was finished and ready to go. Enjoy & thank you so much to those who reviewed! It's always a great encouragement.**

Tara glanced up when the door opened and two unfamiliar faces made their way inside. Then she had to do her best not to stare. A young couple, both dressed in leather jackets, both brunette. The girl was quite a bit shorter than the guy, looking up at him as she cracked a joke that earned her a wide, brilliant grin. Returning her attention to the cameo she was painting, Tara suppressed a sigh. The hot ones were always taken. And boy, was he hot. It took everything she had not to look back up at him in admiration - the fact that he'd decided to forgo a shirt underneath his jacket didn't help. This guy was the epitome of 'tall, dark and handsome'. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as they took the booth in the corner. They didn't look dissimilar to the kind of people she hung out with in New York, and that brought a flicker of hope. However, she quickly stamped it out. That was hardly a basis for friendship. What was she going to do, go up and say "hey, I wear leather jackets too! Wanna be friends?" - this wasn't kindergarten.

"Oh, shit," the girl spoke.

"Huh?"

"Check out the fresh meat. She just stole my role as the hot girl on the boardwalk - now I have to be the funny one."

Her accent was odd. English? But certain words held a strange kind of lilt to them. Tara had been so distracted by this that it took her a few seconds to realise she was talking about _her_. Unable to decide whether she wanted to be offended or flattered, Tara bit her lip and resolved to brush it off. It wasn't like the girl had insulted her, anyway. Either they didn't know she could hear them, or they didn't care. The latter seemed more likely.

"Hate to break it to you, Cat, but you're not that funny," the guy snickered, seeming to dismiss "Cat's" comment.

At least, that's what Tara thought until she looked up and locked gazes with him. His eyes were dark and intense, even with a simple appraising look. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped to never be on the end of one of his glares. After a few long seconds, she returned her attention to her painting, a small part of her attraction to the guy diminishing. What kind of asshole checked out another girl in front of his girlfriend?

After allowing a moment or two to pass, she made her way over to the booth with two menus in hand. Certain details caught her attention as she got closer. Cat's tattoos - a 'P' on her left ring finger, stark against porcelain skin. Who the hell managed to stay so pale in California of all places? So the guy's name must've begun with a 'P' then. That, or she'd made a big mistake when she was younger. Two more tattoos were visible - 'SLEEP ALL DAY' on her left wrist, each word written in a different hand. There was a matching one on the other wrist - 'PARTY ALL NIGHT', written in the same manner. It almost made Tara smile, and that small childish voice in the back of her head urged her to make friends with these strangers, once again. She quickly shook it off. Tattoos were about as much grounds for friendship as leather jackets were. Then her attention went to the guy's necklace. It looked homemade, with different odds and ends threaded onto it – the most noticeable being some kind of rodent skull. She couldn't help but admire it. Quickly quashing the urge to ask about it, she assumed the role of waitress.

"Hey guys," she plastered on a fake smile, along with her best hostess voice "Here are your menus, let me know if you need anything at all."

The guy smirked openly at that comment, and she bit back a scowl, chancing a glance at his girlfriend. To her shock, the brunette was just watching her boyfriend with open amusement. What kind of self-respecting woman would let that shit slide? Maybe the Brits were wired differently. Resisting the urge to make a spiteful comment, she made to return to the counter.

"Excuse me!" a British accent followed her and she halted, turning back around "Carolina still owns the place, right?"

Blinking in surprise, Tara nodded slowly and Cat's face showed a little relief "Just I've never seen anybody else work here."

"I'm her niece. I work the afternoons," Tara supplied, more awkwardly than intended, before continuing on her way.

In her defence, it was a weird question.

"Her legs are taller than me!" she heard Cat hiss, and had to bite back a laugh "Thank fuck for that, though. The menu won't be changing."

Hell, maybe they both had a crush on her. The latter comment did catch her attention, though. It suggested they were regulars - and that they knew Carolina. Maybe her aunt could give her some information on them. It would be tricky, though. Tara's aunt was smart, and any kind of interest shown in them would just lead to many uncomfortable questions. Probably a crap-load of teasing, too.

"You're just really short," came the guy's joking response "And yeah, thank fuck. You were a nightmare without your precious tea."

As their conversation drifted away from her, Tara stopped paying attention and made a mental note to return to the table in a few minutes to take their order - a task she didn't know if she should dread or look forward to. They were certainly the most entertaining customers she'd had so far.

Just a few seconds before she made to move, the door to the cafe swung open again, and Tara blinked in surprise. There were more of them. Three blonds this time, all dressed similarly to the two already seated. It was no surprise when the two shifted along in the booth and the three joined them - she'd have been more surprised if they hadn't been friends. What did surprise her, however, was when one of the blonds slung his arm around Cat's shoulders and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek as she continued to pour over the letter in her hands. Oh. Now it made sense.

Feeling a tad stupid, and more than a little sexist, for assuming the original two were a couple (after all, what proof had she had beyond the fact that one was a guy and the other a girl?), she returned to the table with more menus. This time she smirked back at the one who she'd dubbed "tall, dark and handsome".

* * *

It carried on like that for a few weeks. In the evening, Cat would show up - sometimes alone, sometimes with Dwayne (she'd learned his name after some 'accidental' eavesdropping), sometimes with her boyfriend, or sometimes with all of them. Regardless, within an hour or two at most, the entire gang would end up occupying the booth, and Tara would be left feeling like the loser in high school watching the popular kids hang out at their table. This feeling particularly pissed her off, because she'd never given a shit about the popular kids back in high school. So why these people? What was it about them that made her feel a little sad that she didn't know them? Charisma, probably. Or maybe she just really missed her friends, and it was manifesting like this. Shit, maybe there'd been some poor bastard back in New York who'd wished they could be her friend.

Along with the visits, the staring contests also continued. The first few times he caught her looking at him, she'd been embarrassed and felt her cheeks fire up almost immediately, but that soon changed. He was never embarrassed when she caught him staring - usually offering a raised eyebrow or a smirk - so why should she be? It was only a little harmless flirting, after all. Hell, it wasn't even verbal. Plus, it earned her a good tip. At first she didn't know how she felt about that. Was she like some kind of eye-contact prostitute? Then she decided she was being stupid. If the dude was willing (and stupid enough) to overtip her for a few looks and smirks, she'd happily take his money.

"Be careful with that one," Carolina muttered to her one evening, when Tara must've been less subtle than she thought.

"Huh?" she blinked, turning her attention to her aunt.

Carolina watched the booth for several long moments before motioning with her head for Tara to follow. It was only when they got into the kitchen that her aunt explained herself.

"Look, they're good kids. Well, maybe not good, but they're not bad. Cat's a good girl, at least, and by the looks of things they'd do anything for her, so there's that at least."

"I really don't know what you're getting at," Tara's brow furrowed.

"What I'm getting at, is that she's the only girl I've ever seen around them for more than five seconds. Word around town is that it was some kinda whirlwind romance, she showed up one day on Paul's arm and she's been rolling with them ever since. It took a girl from across the world to make one of them settle down."

Tara mentally filed away the blond's name. So that solved one mystery – the "P" tattoo. In addition, that just left two whose names she didn't know. The most intimidating one with the mullet (two characteristics she never thought could go together), and the one with the cool jacket. If she was being honest, she felt a little pathetic for being so hung up on one group of strangers, but in a town full of "Surf Nazis" and tourists, what other options did she have? To be a third wheel to Carolina and Johnny for however long she was there? Hell no.

"And what? I'm not as good as her so I have no chance?" she didn't like the bitterness that crept into her tone, but she stood her ground.

"That's not what I mean and you know it. They're... _insular_. They never spend much energy on somebody who isn't one of their own. Hell, they don't even seem to take anybody who isn't a Lost Boy seriously at all."

" _The Lost Boys_?"

"It's what they call themselves. Weird, I know."

"They must've taken Cat seriously," Tara huffed.

"That's one person. Years ago."

She faltered a little, unsure how to respond to that.

"Look, you're an adult. You can do what you want. I'm not here to be your parent," Carolina's face softened and she placed a hand on her shoulder "I just don't want you trying to seek out something...meaningful with that guy and ending up with a broken heart."

"Oh, come on, aunt Carolina," Tara groaned, taking a step back "We've had a few staring contests. He's hot. I'm not getting ready to run off into the sunset, and baby makes three."

She meant it, too. As enticing as "The Lost Boys" seemed, part of her was pissed off at just how seriously a lot of Santa Carla seemed to take them. After their first encounter, she seemed to notice them every time she ventured out onto the boardwalk at night. And it noticing them, she noticed people's reactions to them. It ranged between stares of awe, jealousy or lust, to head shakes of disapproval depending on the age of the person watching them. But the fact remained that no matter where they went, they gained attention. What had they done to earn such a reputation? Smoked their body weight in pot? Revved their engines _really_ loud? It was absurd.

Luckily, Carolina must've saw the honesty in her face. Her aunt's face relaxed into a smirk and she shook her head, raising a hand to her face.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid," she sighed "Your mom? She...She had a tendency to fall hard and fast. Got her heart broken for it again and again too."

Something in Tara's chest tightened. Carolina didn't know the half of it.

"...Anyway, sometimes I forget you're not her. Hell, that knucklehead in there's more likely to get attached than you," her aunt finished with a sheepish smile "I'm sorry. Go on."

With Carolina's blessing Tara returned to finish her shift, feeling significantly less at ease than she had ten minutes previously. What Carolina had said wasn't completely untrue. She'd had guys make eyes at her before - any girl in New York had - and whilst the look in Dwayne's eyes was similar, it wasn't the same. There was a layer of amusement somewhere in there. Sure, it was toned down from the outright mocking looks that tended to make themselves at home on the faces of the blonds, but it was still there. The "I know something you don't know" look.

The next time she caught him watching her, she looked away. Still, this didn't change the little mental promise she'd made herself that if the opportunity ever arose to talk to the group of enigmatic strangers, she'd take it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This one was difficult to write, purely because of the topic matter. It's something difficult to get realistic. As always, thank you all so much for the reviews. I'm actually relieved and completely stunned/flattered that I had readers left to return to after my absence.**

Cat had a bad feeling. It had been plaguing her for weeks, and it was starting to get old. Usually when she got a feeling like this, whatever was going to go wrong would reveal itself in a matter of hours - or a few nights at most - but so far? Nothing. It was putting her on edge, and Paul by extension.

"Maybe it's nothing," he shrugged one evening as she paced back and forth in the alcove "Paranoia?"

"No," she shook her head "This isn't just some kind of weird pessimism. I can always pep talk myself out of that. This...This is different."

For a moment she was stricken with the temptation to ask him if there was anything he wasn't telling her, but a glance towards him made her reconsider. If there was one person in the world she could trust, it was Paul. He'd proven that when he'd practically betrayed his brothers to help her get Jamie out of Santa Carla. Cat would be damned if she threw that in his face now. With a sigh, she resolved to put it out of her mind for now. Whatever it was would reveal itself soon. Or drive her mad. One of the two.

"I'm gonna go get something to eat. You coming?" she asked.

"I'll get some real food first, then find you," he snorted, standing up and pulling her into a hug.

Paul's idea of food was anything that could induce a heart attack - the mostly vegetarian, healthy menu at The Hideout didn't meet his high standards. Cat relaxed into him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said seriously, rubbing her back "Can't be anything too bad, right? You'd know by now."

"True," she nodded slowly, moving to her tiptoes to peck him on the lips.

"And take Dwayne with you. He'll want to make eyes some more at his girlfriend."

"I've told him that's one meal he can't take a bite of," Cat rolled her eyes "That's my favourite place on the boardwalk. I don't want it shutting down because some mysterious tragedy befell the owner's niece."

* * *

Today Tara had more of a reason than just Dwayne to stare at the two when they came into the cafe. Cat led the way in, a letter in one hand, before holding the door open for Dwayne who trailed behind her clutching a huge cardboard box, littered with numerous shipping stamps and labels.

"I have no idea what he was thinking," Cat was muttering "It must've cost a bloody fortune to send…Not even my birthday…"

Dwayne seemed unfazed, placing the box on the table of their usual booth "Most girls are happy when they get surprise gifts."

"Yeah, well you know me. I always have to be different."

He snickered, and when Tara glanced up at him he smirked at her briefly before turning his attention back to Cat. Tara suppressed a sigh, reaching for the menus as she kept an eye on the two. Before she'd even stood up, Dwayne began to pull a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and a flicker of annoyance ran through her. Just because she thought he was hot didn't mean she'd let him fumigate the place.

"You can't smoke that in here," she called over, and he looked back at her in surprise - whether it was because she'd spoken, or because she'd called him out, she didn't know.

Then he chose to surprise her in return by nodding and turning to Cat "I'll be back in a second."

Tara was stunned as he actually made for the door, putting a cigarette between his lips as he walked. Truthfully, she didn't know what she'd expected. For him to tell her to fuck off and light it up anyway? For him to laugh at her? She'd been listening to Carolina's disapproving remarks for too long, it seemed. Then again, no business owners in Santa Carla seemed to be overly fond of the Lost Boys.

In an effort to brush off her mental debate, she rose to hand Cat a couple of menus, who nodded and muttered a 'thank you' in return, barely looking at her. Whatever was in the letter, it must've been important. The Lost Girl tore it open like a junkie looking for her next fix, eyes scanning eagerly over the pages. Knowing that if she thought about it too much, she'd end up staring and just appear nosey, Tara busied herself with placing new jewellery on the stand to her right. She didn't even realise something was wrong until the noise came.

A long, high-pitched sound. It was like a cross between a wail, and a sob. Like a wounded animal. It went right through Tara and her head shot up. Cat was the only customer in the place, so it could have only been her. The girl was chalk white, with one hand clamped over her mouth as she stared at the letter in the other with wide, tear filled eyes. Then she seemed to almost physically crumble, the letter fell from her grasp, she folded over and let out a cry that would've shaken anybody to their core.

There are certain situations where worries about social awkwardness go out of the window - this was one of them. In seconds, Tara was beside Cat, a hand on her shoulder as she tried to look her in the eye. The girl's head was hanging as she wept, chest heaving and mouth gasping for air.

"What's wrong?!" Tara asked, panicking "Should I get your friend?"

She couldn't see him outside the cafe window, but he couldn't have gotten far. Cat didn't give her a verbal response, hands trembling as she pointed to the letter where it had landed on the table. This was all the permission Tara needed. She squeezed into the booth beside Cat and wrapped her left arm around her, the letter in the right. Her eyes quickly scanned over the first few lines, written in a shaky hand and smudged ink.

 _C,_

 _There's no easy way to say this. I wish I was there in person, the fact that it has to be done in a letter just makes it worse. Not that finding out in person made it any easier…_

 _Mum passed away last week. It was sudden. Her heart, the doctors said. I didn't even know she was still having problems…_

She stopped reading there, dropping the letter back onto the table as though it had burned her. There wasn't anything more to be explained. To continue would be a violation of privacy. Tara's heart sank and she felt her own eyes sting and a heaviness settle in her chest for the woman sobbing into her shoulder. This wasn't what she wanted when she wished for an opportunity to bond with the girl. Unable to do anything, she wrapped her other arm around her. There was nothing she could say to make this better. Nothing anybody could say.

It was no surprise to her when Cat hugged her tightly in return. When Tara's mom had passed, she would've done the exact same. But she was torn. Surely she'd take more comfort from Dwayne, but to get him she'd have to leave her by herself. Luckily, it was a call she didn't have to make.

"I need a phone," Cat moaned, letting go of Tara to bury her hands in her face, muffling her words "I need to…I have to call…Jamie, _oh my_ _god_."

With that she dissolved into sobs again.

"We have one in the back, c'mon," Tara agreed immediately.

It took Cat four tries to get the number right, but once the conversation started Tara knew she should give her some privacy.

"Jamie?! Jamie what happened?!"

As "Jamie" spoke on the other end of the line, Cat slowly sank down to her knees as though they'd given up on her, and Tara's chest tightened. It was a mirror image of her reaction when she'd found out about her own mom. Exhaling loudly, she turned on heel and left. This wasn't the time. She needed to find Dwayne.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she went, torn between pity for the girl and her own grief-filled nostalgia. Furiously, she blinked away the tears in her eyes. This wasn't about her, and she wasn't gonna be the asshole who made it that way.

Luckily, finding Dwayne wasn't a challenge. The dark Lost Boy was leaning against what she assumed was his bike, a cigarette between his lips, eyes trailing back and forth along the boardwalk, only in half-interest. When they landed on her he blinked, and then the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. The surprise on his face only increased when she ran towards him, and he stood straight, removing the cigarette from between his lips.

"Your friend-" she had no idea how to even begin explaining to him, but was satisfied to see the smirk fall from his face "She's...You need to come. Quickly."

He was back in the cafe before Tara.

"Back room," she supplied quickly when his gaze fell on the empty booth, pointing in the direction before following his lead as he strode through the cafe.

Dwayne visibly flinched when they caught sight of Cat once more. She hadn't moved from where Tara had left her, clinging to the phone like a lifeline, the her free hand tangled in her hair.

"Make her wake up, Jamie," Cat was wailing down the phone "She can't. She can't be gone."

Tara stared at Dwayne, hoping he'd have a better idea of how to handle this than her. For a moment he averted his gaze from Cat and seemed to stare off into the distance, as though looking for some kind of divine intervention. When it didn't come his jaw clenched and his eyes reluctantly returned to girl on the floor. It was then that he acted, joining her on the phone and tugging her towards him as she continued to cry to the person on the other end. Cat didn't react, except to lean into him.

"Oh, little sister," he sighed under his breath, taking Tara by surprise.

She stared hard between the two, trying to look for any kind of resemblance. There was none. But the lack of resemblance was made up for by the blatant bond between the two, as Cat's hand moved from her hair to twist itself into Dwayne's jacket, and suddenly she felt incredibly awkward still standing there. When his somber gaze met hers, she almost jumped.

"Go get her boyfriend," he spoke calmly "The blond one, tux jacket, you know him?"

It was difficult not to. He and Cat were always all over eachother. Tara nodded.

"His name's Paul. He'll probably be at the food truck near the pier, you understand? Tell him what happened, then bring him here."

In any other circumstances, she would've admired his ability to take control of the situation. Or gotten annoyed at how he bossed her around. But every sob and question she heard Cat ask put a stop to it, and she quickly left the cafe once again, only pausing to flip the sign on the cafe door from "OPEN" to "CLOSED".

Paul was a little harder to find than Dwayne had been. When she got to the food truck, the only people lining up outside it were an elderly couple, and a woman with her daughter. Swearing under her breath, Tara's head whipped around furiously, trying to catch sight him, or even the bikes. Returning to the shop without him wasn't an option.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," she growled, moving onto her tiptoes to try and improve her luck - she was far from short in the first place, but the boardwalk was heaving with people.

In the end it was the leader she spotted first, his platinum blonde shock of hair unmistakable, even from a distance. She could've collapsed in relief when she saw Paul beside him, throwing his head back in laughter.

"Paul!" she yelled above the din of the crowds.

No luck. Continuing to shout his name as she ran towards the three Lost Boys, she could've slapped him at the usual amused look on his face when he spotted her. Were their damn faces stuck like that?!

"Can I help you?" his eyebrows raised a little, his tone mocking.

Yeah, she definitely wanted to slap him.

"It's Cat," she snapped, wiping the amusement from his face in an instant.

"What's wrong with Cat?" he stepped forward, almost glaring at her.

"She...She got a letter telling her her mom died."

Paul visibly paled.

"Ah, fuck," the leader muttered behind Paul, pinching the bridge of his nose "I warned her. I _told_ her it'd end in tears."

"David," the one with the cool jacket groaned, nudging him in the ribs.

"What? I did!" 'David' was unfazed.

"Poor Cat, though," the other sighed, shaking his head.

"She's in the cafe with Dwayne. He sent me to get you," Tara shot David a glare - who the fuck said shit like that?!

David responded with a bored look, watching Paul as he raced off in the direction, before looking to the one remaining Lost Boy, and then back to her "Guess we'll have to keep each other company."

The remark didn't sound as laid back as Tara suspected he wanted it to.

* * *

Paul was already in the back room by the time Tara, David and the one who introduced himself to her as Marko, got back to The Hideout. Marko quickly followed suit. This left Tara with David in the front of the café.

"Shouldn't you be back there too?" she asked, folding her arms to disguise her shaking.

The events of the night had hit a little too close to home. As bad as she felt admitting it, she couldn't wait for them all to leave.

"Could anything I say actually make a difference?" he asked drily.

His blasé attitude didn't disguise the worried looks he kept sending the doorway when he thought she wasn't looking. Cat's sobs were fully distinguishable, even out here. Tara observed quietly as David meandered to the booth, which was still home to the incriminating letter and unopened box. Silently and without reading it, he slid the letter into his jacket before staring at the box, the dilemma open on his face.

"I could keep it here until she's in a state to collect it," Tara offered before she was even aware of her decision.

David's head shot up, open surprise on his face, which then turned to suspicion.

"I won't open it," she held her hands up in mock-surrender "Just…trying to do a good deed."

She wasn't about to explain her history to this stranger. Especially not after his comment out on the Boardwalk.

"There's no such thing," David muttered, and they lapsed into silence.

Tara was almost tempted to continue the conversation, if only to drown out the anguish of the girl next door. The look on the blond's face made her reconsider.

 **A/N: Poor Cat can never catch a break, can she? Just thought I should make it clear - around six years have passed between the start of the first story and this one. I promise there's more Tara and Dwayne interaction coming up, but after how quickly things went for Cat and Paul, this one is definitely going to be more drawn out.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Updates might slow down a little as I force myself to work on assignments, but I hope not. I'm enjoying writing these characters again, I missed them :')**

"It wasn't your fault."

…

"Babe, it wasn't."

Cat didn't respond, tears welling up in her eyes for the hundredth time that day. Paul was wrong. It was her fault.

Her mum had been born with some kind of heart defect - Cat had heard the name of it a handful of times, but it was too long and bizarre to remember. It hadn't mattered, it was fixed...Or so she'd thought. There'd been some kind of corrective surgery way before either she or Jamie had been born. She only even knew there'd been a problem because of her parent's divorce.

Cat couldn't really remember the incident, but Jamie did and he'd told her the story back when she was mortal. Their mum had been under major stress during the break up, paying for the expensive lawyer, bills, supporting two young kids, and trying to work full time so that she could pay for these things in the first place. Apparently one day she just collapsed. She spent a few weeks in hospital, during which time a toddler Cat and pre-teen Jamie stayed with their grandparents. Cat vaguely remembered this, but she hadn't known why her mum wasn't there. It wasn't unusual for them to stay with their grandparents for extended periods of time anyway, so the memory didn't stand out much. That was supposed to be the end of it, anyway. They gave her new meds, and she'd been fine ever since. Until now.

A small pathetic squeak escaped her throat in her efforts to stop herself from crying. Turning her head and closing her eyes, she let a few tears slip. First Bryana and Sophie, now her own mother. Would Jamie be next? He'd only narrowly escaped during their last encounter.

After they'd returned from The Hideout, David had produced the letter from his jacket and she'd read the rest of it. Jamie's tone had been curt, and if he'd been anybody else she would've pegged it up to grief. But he wasn't anybody else. This wasn't about grief. He blamed her. Could she even disagree? Losing a child had to be more stressful than a divorce.

"It was my fault," she replied to Paul eventually, the words coming out garbled.

She didn't care.

* * *

"How is she?" Dwayne asked as Paul emerged from the alcove, his lips drawn into a thin line.

The blond simply shook his head, snatching a bottle of whisky from the fountain edge and falling into one of the chairs. Dwayne's heart sank. It had been a week since Cat found out, and the energy in the cave had never felt so subdued. She'd only left the cave once to feed, and it'd taken David and himself practically dragging her out.

"Maybe she needs a girl friend," Marko shrugged.

" _What_?" David wrinkled his nose "Look how well the last bitches worked out for her."

"Treated her like shit," Paul nodded in agreement, taking a swig.

Only Dwayne looked to Marko in interest. His brother was smarter than he often let on - it could hardly hurt to listen to his thoughts. It was all the encouragement he needed.

"I love the chick, man. But I'm a guy."

"You sure?" David muttered.

"Fuck you," Marko rolled his eyes, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees "What I'm saying is that I'll listen to her until my goddamn ears fall off if she needs it, but when it comes to talking back? I haven't got a freakin' clue what the right thing to say is - and neither do you assholes."

Marko slowly looked at each of them, and David's eyebrows lifted a little as if to say "Can't argue with that."

"Chicks are complicated," Marko maintained "You can say one innocent little thing, but if it's the wrong thing, you'll make it ten times worse. We're out of our depth. She needs another girl."

"She can talk to me," Paul said stubbornly "She knows that. Talkin' ain't gonna fix this, no matter who it's with. I'm her _soulmate_ for christ's sake. If she can't talk about it to me, who can she?"

"Nuh-uh," Dwayne shook his head.

Paul immediately fixed him with a glare, and he held his hands up in mock-surrender.

"I'm not saying she can't talk to you," Dwayne sighed, rolling his eyes "But you're all action. You want to fix it, you basically just said that yourself. She doesn't need somebody to try and fix it. She needs somebody who'll understand. We all hated our mothers."

"Check out Freud over there," David snorted.

"So what do you suggest?" Paul asked, head tilting curiously.

"I think Marko's right," he gestured to Marko who grinned smugly "What about the chick in the cafe? She was helpful."

"Oh please, she just wants in your pants," David sighed "You really think any of that concern for Cat was real? You two've been making eyes at each other for weeks. She sees this as her chance in."

"What's your idea then?" Dwayne shrugged "This ain't like last time. You can't lecture her out of it."

"Already tried," David grunted "If that girl could blame herself for global warming, she'd find a way."

"Yeah," Paul sighed.

"It's only been a week, though. Maybe we should just leave her to it?" Marko suggested.

"I'm not saying she should get over it right now," Paul groaned "But she shouldn't be going through it alone."

"But we can't help her if she doesn't want our help," David pointed out.

"We couldn't even help her if she did want it," Paul grumbled, running a hand through his hair "Who the fuck tells somebody their mom died through a letter? A _letter_?"

His brother was always a nightmare in this mood. When faced with a situation he couldn't fix, or escape. It was the quickest and easiest way to turn Paul into a ticking time bomb. Dwayne observed silently as Paul slowly became more and more visibly agitated, fidgeting and gnawing at his lip, glancing at the alcove every now and then. The poor guy just wanted his girlfriend back.

Dwayne's thoughts drifted to the girl from the cafe. Was David right? Was there an ulterior motive there? Somehow he didn't think so. He'd seen the tears in her eyes when she saw the state Cat was in. Nobody could fake empathy that well. It didn't matter, anyway. What could they do? Arrange a playdate for her and Cat? Bribe or threaten her into playing the role of therapist? Maybe they just needed to accept that there was truly nothing they could do, despite how impotent it made them feel.

As if to illustrate just how poorly the helplessness sat with them, Paul sprang to his feet and began to march towards the mouth of the cave.

"Where you goin'?" David called with a groan.

"To make a call," Paul snapped, and was gone seconds later.

"Who the fuck could he be-," Dwayne began, but then it dawned on him "Ah, shit. Her brother."

"Who's gonna follow the idiot and make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble?" David sighed.

Dwayne exhaled loudly and got to his feet.

* * *

"Paul," Dwayne warned, holding the door to the phone booth open as Paul pulled an incredibly old, worn scrap of paper bearing a phone number in Cat's hand from his pocket "The guy just lost his mom, too."

"Yeah, but I'll bet he didn't find out from a letter," Paul responded stubbornly, jabbing at the keypad.

"D'you really think this is a good idea? That Cat'll thank you for it?" he tried.

The blond said nothing, lifting the phone to his ear. Dwayne could hear the dial tone from where he stood, and then a muffled "Hello?"

Everything in him hoped that for Cat's sake, if nothing else, that Paul would rein it in at least a little.

"Hey asshole, remember me?"

...Or not. He couldn't make out Jamie's response, but Paul's was difficult not to hear.

"Nah, I just thought I'd show you how easy phone calls are! I mean, are you fucking kidding me, man?! All it takes is a note telling her to call you, and _then_ you break the news! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelled into the receiver "A letter? Really?"

"Paul," Dwayne sighed, but continued to be ignored.

The talking on the other end was still muffled, but the angry tones were clearly distinguishable. He hoped and prayed that Cat never found out about this.

"Y'know what? I'm _glad_ I took her away from you assholes! If this is the way you treat her, I'm sad she never came here sooner!"

Dwayne couldn't hold back a wince at that.

"Oh? And what're you gonna do, man? Call the cops? It wouldn't surprise me since you clearly don't give a shit about her!" he was growing more and more irate by the second, and Dwayne knew enough was enough.

Pushing forward into the booth, he ignored how cramped it was and easily snatched the phone from Paul's hand. He didn't stop to listen to what was being said on the other end, and instead spoke gruffly into the receiver.

"Ignore him, he's upset."

Then he hang up.

"What are you doing, man?!" Paul protested.

"No, what are _you_ doing?" Dwayne asked incredulously "This isn't going to fix anything, Paul! You can't blame him! Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, but news like this was always gonna destroy her! Fuck, he could've came here and done it in person and she would've been the same!"

Paul's jaw clenched and he glared at him petulantly, but at least he'd stopped raving.

"Her mom just died, Paul," Dwayne sighed, taking some of the anger from his voice "The last thing she needs is her boyfriend starting a war with her brother."

Finally, Paul deflated. His hand went to the back of his neck and he swore softly. Dwayne felt his own face soften. Paul was an idiot at times, but his heart went out to him. He just wanted to help. Admitting that he couldn't fix it must've been hard.

"Don't tell her?" he asked eventually.

"I won't," Dwayne shook his head before nodding towards the phone "He might."

Paul's head fell back, his eyes closed and he let out a soft drawn out "Fuck."

After giving him a few moments, and ignoring the odd looks people on the boardwalk were giving the two Lost Boys crammed into the tiny phone booth, Dwayne clapped a hand onto Paul's shoulder.

"Come on, idiot. I have an idea."

BREAK

The Hideout was as quiet as it usually was when they arrived, with only one elderly woman sitting at a table near the window. The girl looked up when they walked in, and then her honey-coloured eyes widened in surprise. Dwayne's mind went back to David's comments about her, and he bristled a little. He hoped his brother was wrong.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached the counter, Paul trailing behind him.

"Is Cat okay?" her brow furrowed and she brought her bottom lip between her teeth.

How did she know her name? He dismissed the question, it didn't matter. In any other situation, he would've began to joke or flirt - or at the very least snuck a glance at her chest in the tight fitting tank-top she was wearing - but tonight he was bone-weary.

"Not really," he sighed, and held back his surprise when the girl's face fell and she looked down at the desk "What's your name?"

He hadn't intended to ask, but there was nothing he could do once he had. Her eyes flew up to meet his again, regarding him with what bordered on suspicion. Huh. Maybe she was one of those "flirt from afar, the chase is better than the catch" kinda chicks. Or maybe she was just socially awkward.

"Tara," she said eventually.

"Dwayne," he nodded in return before cutting to the chase "Look, it was real good of you to do...all of that last week. You could've kicked us out on our asses if you wanted to."

Well, she could've tried. He had a feeling saying that wouldn't have been helpful, though.

"It's nothing," Tara dismissed simply, but with no hint of modesty in her voice.

"Why are we here, man?" Paul asked impatiently behind him.

"Think you could do us one more favour?" he asked Tara, putting on his best endearing face and hoping it worked.

She raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. A woman of few words, then? Good. It made things easier.

"Look, I know you guys don't do take-out, but if you could just put together a box of whatever desserts Cat orders, I'd owe you one," he leant forward a little.

Tara's gaze softened. Whatever she'd been expecting him to ask, that clearly wasn't it.

"She's not eating," she murmured.

It wasn't a question so much as a statement of what she knew to be a surefire fact. Now that was interesting. So the waitress knew about grief. Before he could ask if she'd do it, she turned and headed round back.

Dwayne couldn't help but be impressed. Cat hadn't been lying when she called the girl hot. She was tall, for a chick, and waifish, which had the effect of making every movement she made look graceful, even when she was hunched over the counter with her paintings. He glanced at the jewellery on the edge of the counter. They were good. Most of it was vampire or horror-movie themed. He suppressed a smirk. The chick was in the right town.

Her eyes were the only indication that she was related to the owner, who had served them a handful of times and often joked around a little with Cat. They were almost the exact colour of honey, only adding to the fierce look that the high, pronounced cheekbones gave her. Her lips were a little on the thin side, and her nose just slightly crooked, but she could get away with it. Long pin-straight black hair, interspersed with streaks of white-blonde completed her semi-goth "don't fuck with me" look. Yeah, Tara definitely knew she was hot. Maybe not in an arrogant way, but definitely in a factual kinda way. It was a shame Cat had forbade him from having his fun, but he couldn't blame her. Her attachment to this place was plain to see. Sure, there was always the option of fooling around without killing her, but that's when things would get complicated or awkward. That's when questions started being asked. They were all at their safest as long as they remained noticed, but detached and unknown. In any case, the more he interacted with the girl, the less interested she suddenly seemed. Talk about ice queen.

"I'm gonna wait outside," Paul muttered, and Dwayne nodded without turning, beginning to inspect the jewellery on the stand as he waited.

When she returned, she was brandishing a tupperware container stuffed to the brim with brownies, cupcakes and pastries.

"How much?" he asked.

She told him, and whilst he dug into his pockets for cash, she unhooked a bracelet from the stand and draped it over the top of the box.

"That's for free," she murmured, gesturing to the bracelet, a slight flush on her cheeks "I, uh...I hope she's okay."

Maybe David was wrong about Tara. Or maybe she was just really keen to impress. Either way, he stuffed a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar before he left.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Not gonna lie, when I first returned I was worried I wasn't even going to have any readers left to return to :') thank you guys for being awesome. Today was my first chance to work on this without sacrificing sleep (and three hour seminars on 4 hours of sleep are hell), but I'm hoping I can get the next one out a little quicker. We'll see. As always, reviews are adored, and thank you so much if you left one last time!**

It was one of the few nights that the alcove felt stifling, rather than cosy. Then again, the early mornings were always the worst. There was very little to do other than to try and sleep, and when she tried to sleep before the sun took over and made her drowsy, her mind wandered. Then she cried. Had her mother cried for her like this after she went missing? Probably. Cat knew that she deserved this.

Not wanting to wake Paul up with her crying, she slowly slithered from his grasp and out of bed. There was still an hour or two of darkness left. She tugged on his Union Jack boxers and a plain black hoodie before slipping out. David was the only one still in the main part of the cave, asleep and sprawled out on the sofa with his legs hanging over one of its arms. Cat frowned. It was a bad idea to fall asleep out here, alone and this close to daybreak. Reluctantly, she reached out to shake his shoulder, but just before her fingertips touched him, he spoke.

"I'm awake," his eyes opened and she jumped, before swearing a little hoarsely "Morning, Cat."

"Not quite yet," she shook her head, wishing there was a way to disguise how red she knew her eyes were.

David stared at her for a few moments, and if she didn't know him so well she would've said it was with suspicion. Then he moved, sitting normally on the sofa, and patted the spot beside him. She complied. This hadn't been her plan. She'd wanted to come out, allow herself to have a sobbing fit for a moment or two, and then curl up into Paul's side and slip into a wonderful sun-induced coma. Blinking back the tears was difficult, and she knew that if she tried to make small talk and pretend she was okay, David would be more than happy to call her out on it. Her eyes fell on the box that Jamie had sent, still unopened, sitting in the darkest corner of the cave.

David sat beside her patiently for a good few minutes before she spoke.

"...It'll be Jamie next," she breathed eventually "Maybe not this year. Maybe not this decade. But one day."

The idea alone of her brother dying brought fresh tears to her eyes, and intensified the ache in her chest.

"One day," David agreed softly.

Drawing her knees up underneath her chin, she leaned against him. Did David know how comforting his brutal honesty was to her? If it wasn't, would he still be like that? Probably.

"It was my fault," she murmured, wiping at one of her eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie.

"You figure?" he asked, shifting a little to pull a joint from his pocket.

He lit it before handing it to her. She thanked him softly, knowing it would help. Taking a deep draw, she took a moment to make her thoughts coherent before continuing.

"The stress. Everything I put her through. She thought she was burying her daughter," she exhaled a cloud of smoke and then sniffed "It had to be."

"Then why didn't she die five years ago?"

"Maybe it didn't outright kill her, just...take the years off of her life," she suggested, taking another draw "Maybe she was still holding out some kind of hope until recently."

"Maybe, maybe, maybe," David gave her an exasperated look, and she glared up at him in return from where her head rested on his shoulder.

"What, you think you know how it happened? What caused it."

"Not any more than you do."

Cat fell silent. She was more than half way through the joint, and feeling delightfully hazy, before David spoke again.

"If you wanna play the blame game, you should be pointing the finger at us."

"Don't be ridiculous," Cat snapped immediately.

"What? Why not? It wasn't your decision to stay here forever. To convince your family that you were dead. You didn't even know Paul was your soulmate. If he'd've let you walk away, maybe she'd still be alive."

David's logic caused aggravation to stir up in the pit of her abdomen.

"Yeah, because Paul knew that me being here equated to my mother dying," she rolled her eyes.

"Not any more than you did," he gave her his trademark smug smirk and she stared at him in disbelief.

That bastard.

"Blaming yourself makes about as much sense as blaming us - or Paul," he adopted a serious demeanour now, staring her in the eye as he spoke slowly and deliberately to further emphasise his point "It's a shitty situation, Cat, but it's nobody's fault. Blaming anybody isn't gonna change it."

Her eyes fluttered closed and she held the joint out to him, dropping her hand when he accepted it. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of David...but he was right. When she was blaming herself, it was keeping her mind occupied. She wasn't thinking about the fact that her mum was gone, she was too busy despising herself. Returning her feet to the ground, she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. She was too preoccupied to even be surprised when David pulled her back to lean against him once more, and sat there silently as she cried.

When she finally managed to calm down, he leant forward and grabbed a tupperware container from the fountain edge, handing it to her. Cat's heart clenched with guilt at two things - the fact that they'd felt the need to go to such lengths to look after her...and the way her stomach turned at the mere sight of the food inside.

No way would she throw this in their faces, though. Feigning enthusiasm, she opened up the lid and blinked in surprise. On top of the baked goods sat a bracelet. Small red plastic crystals dangled from a silver chain, along with one charm. A small set of vampire fangs. She had to hold back a snort at that - how appropriate.

" _That_ was a gift from the girl," David's voice held clear disapproval.

"That was nice of her," Cat murmured, face burning at the memory of the state she was in when she last saw the girl.

"You think?" her brother asked skeptically.

"You don't?" she asked in return, arching an eyebrow.

"She seems a little eager to help," he shrugged "Especially after she's been staring at us for weeks now."

"Everybody stares at us," Cat snorted.

It was an arrogant statement, but a true one. They drew attention. That was just the way it was.

"Are you really gonna pretend you missed whatever's going on between her and Dwayne?" he asked "You're smarter than that, Cat."

"So what, she wants to shag Dwayne so she's being nice to me?"

"People are assholes."

Cat said nothing. She pulled the most bland looking dessert from the tub - a croissant - and slowly began to tear pieces off, chewing them slowly. It wouldn't surprise her if David was right, but what bothered her more than his suggestion was the nagging hope she had that he was wrong. Why should she care? She'd learned a long time ago that the only people she needed were her brothers and Paul. The motives of some random waitress should be irrelevant. However, the memory of the way she'd ran over, hugged and comforted her without reservation was a vivid one. Had that really been an act? David was smart, yes, and observant, definitely...but he was also one hell of a cynic at times. It _was_ possible that he was wrong.

With a shake of her head, she dispelled the thoughts. It didn't matter. She handed David the uneaten half of the croissant, and he immediately took a huge bite from it. Cat snickered. Yeah, the Lost Boys were definitely the only people she needed. Slowly standing, she kissed his cheek and smirked at his poor effort to look irritated by the gesture.

"Good morning, David."

Sliding back into bed with Paul, Cat felt a lot more at ease than she had in a long time. She intertwined her legs with his, and cuddled up against him, feeling warmth swell in her chest when he mumbled a little and pulled her closer before slipping back into a deep sleep once again. For the first time in a while, she felt like she was going to be okay. Maybe not right away, but eventually.

* * *

A whole month passed before Tara saw Cat again. Part of her wondered if it was embarrassment as much as grief keeping her away. In addition, with Cat absent, the rest of the Lost Boys followed suit. Guilt coursed through her at the disappointment this instilled in her. They added a little excitement to her shifts - and she furiously told herself Dwayne's absence meant no more to her than that of the others. Flirting was okay, sure. Maybe even a little meaningless fun. But relationships meant trouble and only ever ended in tears. World War 3 had taught her that.

Although, the absence of the Lost Boys meant that The Hideout was essentially dead during her shifts now, affording her the freedom to do what she wanted. Usually this was calling friends back in New York, working on some kind of craft, or both. It had also given her time to think. The more she interacted with these people, the more questions she seemed to be left with.

Her first source of confusion was David's comment. "I warned her this would end in tears". At first she'd been so pissed off at his crassness that she hadn't even really considered the point he'd been trying to make, but the more she thought on it, the less sense it made. What exactly would end in tears? It sounded like he knew Cat's mom would die...but _how_? It had clearly come as a huge shock to the girl, so she couldn't have been sick. The whole comment was just odd.

The other thing that had been bothering her was something Dwayne had said. He'd referred to Cat as "little sister". Her first reaction had been shock, and for a moment she'd actually considered that they might be related. But there was no way...Right? Christ, they were different races for one thing. Although maybe they were half siblings who'd somehow bonded after living apart? It _could_ account for the different accents, and even possibly the lack of family resemblance...but there was no way even half siblings could look that different? In addition, he'd seemed upset at the state Cat was in, but not the news she'd received. If there was any relation he'd have to be more fazed by the death of Cat's mom, right? The entire situation made her head spin. Maybe it was just a gang thing. Casting her mind back to old Sopranos episodes she'd seen, she tried to remember if they'd referred to each other as "brothers". Then with a snort she realised how stupid that was. The Lost Boys were hardly the mafia.

Still, this development only made her more determined to get to know Cat, if none of the rest of them. Losing your mom was one of the worst things a person could go through, and the image of the girl weeping on the floor wasn't going to leave her mind any time soon. She'd have killed to have somebody be there to help her through it, so if she could be that person to the Lost Girl _and_ make a friend in the process, she'd be more than happy.

"So...I was thinking of visiting," the voice on the phone pulled her from her thoughts.

Tara only just managed to stop herself from sighing audibly into the receiver "Julian...We agreed."

"More like you decided," Julian muttered.

"And you agreed," she ground out, pinching the bridge of her nose "I don't think it'd be a good idea."

Julian had been a good boyfriend back in the day. Attractive, funny, and surprisingly kind between the "tough guy" exterior he so desperately to put across, they'd been good together. He hadn't taken the break-up well, and their friendship had always been more than a little strained afterwards. It probably didn't help that she'd refused to explain why she'd broken up with him, and her reasoning of not wanting to be in a relationship anymore didn't satisfy him in the slightest. He'd even pegged it up to her mom being sick, but she didn't care. Tara suspected that deep down he probably thought there was still hope.

"C'mon, Tee," he sighed "I'm not asking you to marry me. If you remember, we _also_ agreed to go back to being friends. What's wrong with a friendly visit? I miss you! We all do!"

"Then how come Samantha isn't trying to visit? Or Freddie? Or Christopher?"

"Samantha's a bitch, Freddie's working and Christopher can't afford it."

"But you can?"

"A college fund goes a long way when you wind up not going to college," she could almost hear him shrug, and bit back a snide remark.

That asshole didn't know how lucky he was. Tara had all but got down on her knees and begged her father to help her get through art school, and here Julian was, throwing the opportunity away. And for what? Drugs and booze?

"Would it help if I brought the others along too?"

"Look. Jules," she sank onto the stool behind the counter "I asked one thing of you when I left. One thing. Keep an eye on Emma, and let me know what's going on with her."

Her free hand moved up to mess with the butterfly hanging from her ear.

"And I have!" Julian groaned "The kid's fine, Tee! They're good to her!"

"And I need you to stay there and make sure it stays that way! I don't trust that bitch, or my dick of a father."

It was only half a lie. The last thing she wanted was Julian showing up in Santa Carla, and if he felt that he had some kind of higher purpose keeping him in New York, odds were he'd stay put. Whilst she didn't trust Alison, or her father, she highly doubted any harm would come to her sister.

"I'm trusting you with this," she sighed, laying it on thick "It's a big deal to me."

The bell above the door rang, and Tara had to stop herself from thanking whatever higher powers were out there for saving her.

"Look, Julian, I need to go," she interrupted whatever response he was about to give "I've got customers."

It took everything in her not to slam the phone down. Mentally counting to three, and finding the energy to adopt the 'cheery hostess persona', she turned to face the shop and then froze when she came face to face with the Lost Girl herself. Tara froze and blinked in surprise, staring at Cat, who was watching her carefully in return.


	7. Chapter 7

Cat was paler than she'd been when Tara had last seen her, if that was even possible. Not that the girl wasn't pretty - she somehow managed to take "1940s pin-up model", with a Marilyn Monroe physique, pale milky skin, wide green eyes accentuated with winged eyeliner, and full Cupid's bow lips painted red, mix it with a "badass biker chick" style, with the messily curled mahogany hair, leather jackets, ripped clothing, and tattoos and make it work...But Tara hadn't even known it was possible to be so pale in California. She might've even lost a little weight too, her cheekbones seemingly more prominent.

Every so often during their absence, one of the Lost Boys would drop in and pick up some snacks to go, but that was it. The sight of Cat made her wonder how much of it actually got eaten. What she did notice was that it was never Dwayne who came by anymore. She tried to convince herself she was relieved about this. Flirting was fine, hell, she could even stretch to some meaningless fun, but crushes? No. Crushes led to relationships, and she didn't do them. Not anymore. After seeing what they could do to people, and how few were actually successful, the likelihood of unnecessary pain and betrayal didn't seem worth the risk. It was probably the final lesson she'd learned from her parents. It was _also_ why she'd broken up with Julian. Although he'd taken her explanation as bullshit, but that didn't matter.

"...Hey," Tara managed lamely, and immediately mentally kicked herself for it.

 _Hey_? The last time she'd seen her, she'd been crying her heart out on the goddamn floor, and the best Tara could do was _'hey_ '? Luckily, Cat seemed to find it amusing, the corner of her mouth twisting upwards.

"Hi," Cat nodded, adjusting her jacket uncomfortably.

Her accent seemed oddly delicate compared to her appearance, and the company she kept. Tara had to wonder how exactly she'd fallen in with The Lost Boys in the first place. Then she noticed the bracelet hanging from her wrist and smiled.

"You like it?"

"Huh?" it took Cat a second to realise what she was talking about "Oh! Yeah, thank you! It's so pretty, honestly, I'm jealous. The best I can do are friendship bracelets - you know, with the embroidery floss?"

Tara was taken aback by her enthusiasm and how talkative she was, but not in a bad way. If anything she was relieved. With a snicker, she shook her head.

"You're welcome, it suits you."

"Yeah? So you like vampires then?" Cat seemed to slowly become more comfortable, shoulders dropping and meeting her gaze more easily.

In all honesty, Tara was struck by the difference in her compared to when she was around her friends, or her boyfriend. Or maybe the change was more to do with the last time she'd seen her. In any case, having the somewhat infamous Lost Girl making conversation with her was more exciting than she'd ever admit.

"Guilty," she gave a small laugh "I'm a complete nerd when it comes to vampires...or anything supernatural, really. That new one with Tom Cruise is amazing, you seen it?"

"Nah, Paul can't sit still that long," Cat joked with a grin "I'm Cat, by the way...I figured introductions are way overdue."

"Tara," she supplied, shaking the hand Cat offered.

"Look…" the biker sighed, adopting a more serious demeanour "I just wanted to thank you for everything last month. You were... _really awesome_. You could've easily kicked us out for all the drama."

"Not at all-," she tried to protest, but Cat continued.

"No, it was damn good of you. And what's more is you kept your mouth shut. If that had happened in any other place on the boardwalk, everybody would've known all of the gory details less than an hour later."

The genuine nature of her words stunned her. From what she'd seen so far, bravado seemed to be ingrained so deeply in the Lost Boys that it was almost a personality trait. Having Cat stroll up to her and say something so genuine felt surreal. To not respond with the same level of honesty would almost be an insult.

"...I know how it feels," Tara admitted reluctantly.

Cat's brow furrowed, so she clarified.

"To, uh, lose your mom," she spoke quietly "I couldn't not help."

If there had been any bravado left in Cat, it vanished as she stared at Tara with wide eyes, understanding dawning on her face. But much to her relief, there was no pity there.

"So that's why you helped," she murmured under her breath.

"Why did you think?" Tara laughed awkwardly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I dunno," Cat shook her head, but a little too hesitantly for Tara to be sure she was telling the truth.

What possible ulterior motive could she have had? Before she had a chance to ask, the door opened and the rest of the Lost Boys piled in, not bothering to hide their curiosity when they spotted her and Cat talking.

"I better go," Cat gestured to them apologetically "I mean it though. Thank you."

Before she could even think twice, Tara was stopping her, calling her name. She turned, eyebrows raised.

"They're still showing that vampire movie at the theatre around the block...you wanna go see it sometime?"

The silence that followed was so intense that she could've heard a pin drop. Behind Cat, she noticed the Lost Boys all glance at each other. Why did they all look so stunned? Was it really so unusual for an 'outsider' to hang out with one of them? Was her offer weird? Sure, maybe it was a little forward of her, but weeks on end of hanging out with nobody her own age was becoming torturous...and they did have one big glaring thing in common. Just before she could give into the urge to take the offer back, Cat seemed to snap out of her surprise and gave a wide, if not stunned, smile.

"Sure. Sounds good."

Tara pretended not to hear the Lost Boys' following exchange.

"Looks like she's stealing your girl, Paul."

"More like Cat's stealing Dwayne's."

* * *

"I can't believe you said yes to her," Paul snickered, sprawled out beside her on the mattress whilst she sat cross-legged, painstakingly applying her eyeliner in a hand mirror.

In all honesty, her initial knee-jerk reaction had been to say no. Her mind had flitted straight to Paul and her brothers, and alarm had filled her at the idea of leaving them to hang out with some stranger for the night. Then she paused. Why _shouldn't_ she hang out with somebody other than the Lost Boys? Obviously she adored them, but her horror at the idea of being separated from them for half a night alone gave her cause for concern. She refused to be one of those girls who had to be attached to her boyfriend at the hip 24/7.

Of course, she understood why they'd be disgruntled. All it took was one slip and the charade was over and suddenly they were on the run. But they faced that same danger on the boardwalk every night, and it wasn't a concern then, so why should it be one if she was alone? Cat knew how to handle herself, and she knew how to keep a damn secret. Especially one this important.

"I can't believe you're still laughing about it," Cat retorted "I feel bad for her, okay?"

"Why?" he scoffed.

"Think about it," she shrugged, putting down the mirror and turning her head to face him "We're on the boardwalk pretty much every damn night, and every time I see her she's either working, or hanging out alone."

"So?"

" _So_ she's new in town, and it looks like she hasn't made any friends so far."

"That ain't your fault," he snorted, sitting up "You really think _we_ can be those friends, babe? It won't work."

"I'm not getting ready to make friendship bracelets and-."

"You already got one."

" _Paul_ ," Cat groaned, leaning sideways into him and resting her head on his shoulder "I'll keep her at arm's length, okay? It's just…"

She paused. The topic of her mother was still an incredibly painful one, and if she talked about it for longer than a minute or so, tears were inevitable. Not only that, but it would completely ruin the carefree and easy going mood.

"Just?" he prompted, moving an arm up to wrap around her waist, keeping her in place.

Resting a hand on his chest in return, she wrestled with herself for another moment before sighing.

"Her mum died. I don't know when, but maybe it's why she moved here."

Immediately Paul tensed beneath her touch "Oh."

"Look, I'm not going to make things awkward by bringing her into the fold and putting us in a dangerous position. We're gonna hang out, maybe talk a little, then I'll come back and things will go back to normal."

'Talking a little' may or may not have been a slight underlying motive for Cat. None of the Lost Boys had had particularly good relationships with their mothers, to say the least. The idea of being heartbroken at the loss was a foreign concept to them, and this much was obvious on the handful of occasions when the topic of conversation drifted to it. Usually because of the box, still unopened in the corner of the cave. The one who came closest to knowing what she was going through was Dwayne, what with the sister he'd had back in his mortal days, but that was one wound she didn't want to prod. It just seemed cruel. Why make him relive his suffering so she could get over hers? And Tara wouldn't have mentioned her own loss if it wasn't something she was willing to talk about, if only a little.

"...She seems decent," Paul admitted grudgingly, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Cat smiled into his shoulder "Yeah? David thinks she just wants to shag Dwayne."

"Oh, she definitely wants to bang Dwayne," he snickered into her hair "But up 'til just now, I thought that was her only motive."

"You guys never used to be so insular," she commented "Back before I came along…"

"We learned the risks of that the hard way," he sighed simply "If being careful around mortals keeps us from losing another member of the family, it's a small price to pay."

She didn't miss the way his grip on her seemed to tighten a little, and cave her cause to stop. " _Another_ " member of the family. They never discussed Max, apart from when Paul had told her the story of his demise. From what she gathered, he hadn't been a brother to them in the same way that they were to each other. That would've completely destroyed them. Hell, the thought of losing any of her brothers made tears spring to her eyes and nausea rise to her chest from the pit of her stomach. However, their loss was still enough to change the way they viewed their interactions with humans. For the billionth time since she'd arrived in Santa Carla, Cat thought about how she couldn't really blame David for his initial (if only slight) resentment towards her. They really had put their lives on the line by bringing her into the fold, and they'd only done it at the time for Paul. Then she'd done it again by letting Jamie leave. Was she repeating old habits by hanging out with Tara now? The gravity of the situation strengthened her resolve, and she inhaled deeply. It wasn't only her safety at stake, either. If anything happened to her, the general consensus seemed to be that Paul wouldn't make it either. Part of her wondered how that worked. Was it possible to literally die of grief? Or would he just give up? Cat shuddered. She didn't want to find out.

This train of thought alone made her want to find Tara on the boardwalk and give her some shitty excuse to get out of hanging out…but that would make The Hideout an awkward place to be, and she'd feel terrible about it. All she could do was stick to her original plan – show up, be friendly, but keep her at arm's length. Maybe it could even be a good thing. People were less likely to be suspicious of the Lost Boys if they saw them interacting with people outside their group every so often – ones who didn't then go missing ten minutes later, that is. They did avoid picking their victims from the boardwalk – it was easier and safer to just fall on groups that were hanging out on secluded areas of the beach. But sometimes, if only one of them was hungry, or if they wanted a quick meal now, it was easier to lure a lone tourist away. But maybe if Cat hung around with Tara a few times, if (god forbid) rumours started about them, they'd have somebody outside the group to combat them – and during the day if needed, too.

"I'll be careful….and I'll be fine."

She felt, more than saw, him nod "Want us to meet you after the movie?"

"Sounds good. Then I'll have an excuse to get away."

The entire conversation had left Cat with a bad taste in her mouth. She more than understood and agreed with what he was getting at, but it was disappointing. For a moment or two she'd fooled herself into thinking maybe she'd befriended somebody who'd understand what she was going through. She slumped against him, falling silent. Paul seemed to sense the drop in her mood, thumb rubbing slow and soothing circles on her shoulder. It did help – maybe she couldn't be best friends with Tara, but she would always have him, and her brothers. If keeping the rest of the world at a distance kept it this way, it was a small sacrifice to make.

 **A/N: Guys, when leaving reviews please keep in mind that this story isn't my only obligation. Don't think that I'm not delighted that you guys enjoy this story, but I'm currently in my second year of an Eng Lit & Creative Writing degree, meaning I have **_**a lot**_ **of assignments to work on, reading lists to get through, classes to attend, on top of maintaining a personal life and making money. Sometimes updates will be very quick, other times it might take a week or two. Believe me, I'd love it if this was the only thing I had to write, because I love it (waaay more than the other stuff I have to work on) - and when I can, I sacrifice sleep to work on it or write quick drafts on my lunch breaks, sometimes that's the only time I can get. In any case, I'd rather take my time and make sure I'm giving you guys something good to read instead of rushing it and ending up with a half-assed, crappy story that your time would be wasted on. The second a chapter is finished, I post it. I promise I don't forget about it, I just have other things on a shorter time scale to work on. I have no intentions of abandoning this story – even when I disappeared over summer, I was still attempting rough drafts, they just ended up being no good.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, this chapter gave me hell - but it also gave me time to come up with some ideas for Eternal, at least. I was determined to update on Halloween, though :') - and it's quite a bit longer than usual!**

Tara browsed through the comics quietly. She'd spent most of the day so far stubbornly ignoring the nerves building in her abdomen. If she managed to say something stupid, not only would it jeopardize the only chance she'd had so far at making friends, but it would also undoubtedly get back to the Lost Boys, and judging by what she knew of David, she'd then be mocked relentlessly every time they set foot in The Hideout. She glanced at the Batman comics and grimaced. Julian had been obsessed with them back in the day. Any kind of superhero comic, really. Tara had never seen the big deal - the villains were what made them interesting and that was about it. Continuing on, she paused when she reached the horror section. Perfect. And if she was lucky, she'd even find some cool references for a new piece or two. Maybe something to paint on the new pair of boots she'd just bought.

A lot of the comics were a little outdated, but that added to their charm.

"There're more behind you."

With a start, she spun to see who she could only assume was an employee. Around her age, maybe a little order, with messy dirty blond hair and an uncomfortably stern look on his face. She was half tempted to joke that his face would stick like that, but having such a treasure trove of comics at her fingertips seemed to valuable to compromise for a shitty joke.

"Horror comics," he clarified, gesturing to the one in her hand "I'm guessing you're a fan."

"That obvious?" she joked, if only to relieve some of the awkwardness she felt, looking down at her all-black outfit.

This, at least, earned her a half-smirk "You're new here."

"To this store? Yeah. Santa Carla? Not really. Not anymore. My aunt owns The Hideout."

His lip curled a little at the mention of the cafe. Charming.

"Met anyone...Interesting so far?"

Tara squinted a little. Was he hitting on her? He was a little too odd for her to tell. What she did notice was that at his question, the guy behind the cash register looked up with great interest.

"Everybody's interesting in Santa Carla," she settled on.

He fixed her with a suspicious look for a moment or two before nodding "Try 'Vampires Everywhere'. Half price."

"I'll take it then," Tara blinked, a little bewildered but not enough to turn down some cheap entertainment.

The guy grabbed it from a shelf, seeming to know exactly where it was without needing to look. Following him to the counter, she quietly paid for the one he'd suggested, along with some kind of zombie comic, too.

"I'm Edgar, that's my brother, Alan," Alan gave her a silent nod, his face maybe even sterner than Edgar's "You should come back after you've read it."

"Uh...sure, maybe," she replied, failing to hide her confusion, and left quickly, clutching the comics to her chest.

* * *

Tara hated this stage of friendship. The initial awkwardness where you don't quite know the person well enough to be 100% comfortable, and therefore 100% yourself. Cat was also acting strangely. Maybe she felt the same way? Not that she wasn't being friendly, but there was something in her demeanour that seemed different as she sat beside her, waiting for the movie to start.

"So, how d'you like Santa Carla so far?" she asked curiously, turning a little in her seat.

There was something in the way it sounded with her accent that amused Tara. Santa Caaah-lah. It made the place sound a lot more upclass than it was.

"It's gorgeous," Tara nodded "And the people are...unique."

"Like who?" Cat quirked an eyebrow, amused.

 _Like you and your friends._

"I dunno...have you seen those two guys who run the comic shop?"

"You've met them, then?"

"Yeah, I uh...I think the blond one - Edgar? - Might've been trying to hit on me. I really couldn't tell though."

Cat laughed so hard at that, that a few of the others in the theatre turned and fixed her with an annoyed look, which she promptly ignored.

"Shit, I didn't think the kid had it in him," she shook her head, shoulders shaking "That's too good."

 _Kid_? He was at least their age. Tara shrugged it off. The Lost Boys were habitually antagonistic, and it'd surprise her if that had _completely_ escaped Cat. Maybe that was how the trait manifested in her.

"So you know them, then?"

Something unrecognisable flitted across Cat's face and her laughter died down, but then she snickered again "Yeah. Those are the Frog brothers. They're, erm...something."

"You know them well?"

"Kind of. I wouldn't call us close, but we're not exactly strangers. They're not too fond of us - the Lost Boys, I mean. Back before I arrived they wanted to join up, guys said no, they held a grudge."

"Really?" Tara blinked in surprise "Why did they say no?"

Cat fixed her with a searching look for a moment or two before leaning back in her chair "The boys...We're not so much a gang as a family. You can't 'apply' to be in a family...You just are. Joining up isn't that easy, y'know? It wouldn't be family otherwise."

Under normal circumstances, Tara would've rolled her eyes at a speech like this, but there was such an openness and honesty in Cat's demeanour that she paused.

"So that's why Dwayne called you his sister."

"That one baffled you, hmm?" Cat laughed softly "But yeah, that's why. They're my brothers, regardless of blood. Except for Paul, obviously. That'd be weird."

"How did you join?" the question left her lips before she could think twice about if it was appropriate or not.

"Why? Are you thinking of applying?"

"No! Not at all! I just-."

Tara stopped when Cat began to laugh, feeling both relieved and a little stupid. When she saw the look on her face, Cat shook her head and sighed.

"Sorry, I was just messing with you - habit. I, uh, well...my circumstances were odd," she looked thoughtful for a few moments "I came here on holiday, and I met Paul on my second night here. By the end of the week we were together."

Tara tried to hide the look of shock on her face, but mustn't have done a very good job because Cat laughed again "I know, I know. I was as surprised as you. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I stayed. And, well, the boys decided I wasn't all bad and accepted me. Happily ever after and all that."

"How long ago was that?"

"Si- I mean, three years or so."

There was no disguising her shock this time. _Three years_?! The way they went on was like a couple in the midst of their honeymoon period. Tara had assumed that they'd been together about as long as she'd been in Santa Carla. How on earth had they been together that long? Although she supposed it had to be something substantial, judging by the tattoo on her ring finger.

"Christ, you must've been young. Wasn't it hard?"

Cat shrugged and waved a hand "It was what it was...and what it was, was worth it."

Tara had a million more questions, but her curiosity had already gotten the better of her, and was turning the conversation into an interrogation. If Cat was greatly bothered by it, she hid it well, but the odd look that passed her face now and then hadn't gone amiss.

"What about you? Did you find moving difficult?"

Tara almost breathed a sigh in relief at the lifeline she'd been thrown.

"Nah, I was relieved. I was ready to burn down New York if I had to stay there any longer."

"New York? Oh, wow," Cat's eyes widened in surprise "I've never been, though it looks amazing! Then again, I suppose everywhere does if you haven't lived there."

"That's true - where are you from?"

"Scotland," Cat sighed wistfully.

"Oh? You don't sound-."

"I know, I know, I sound English. Something my mum would…" Cat trailed off and winced.

Tara smiled sadly. It was like looking into a mirror.

"That was the toughest part for me - actually remembering she was gone," she offered softly.

Monitoring her reaction carefully, so she knew whether or not to change the subject, Tara watched as Cat shifted a little, ran a hand through her hair and averted her eyes to the floor. She was just about to bring up the movie when the girl spoke.

"You'd think it wouldn't be something you could forget," she sighed before giving her a sheepish smile "I'm afraid I drown the poor boys in my tears every time I accidentally remember her."

The mental image of the Lost Boys being comforting - or anything other than mocking and vaguely intimidating - would've been difficult to conjure, had it not been for what Tara had witnessed the previous month.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you it doesn't get any easier," Tara admitted, averting her eyes to the screen "You just...do it less."

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad to have somebody around me who tells the truth about it...Other than David," Cat smirked a little, blinking tears away "He tells me he pissed you off."

"He told you?"

"It's something he prides himself in - pissing people off, I mean."

"I got that impression," Tara replied honestly, glad of the absence of the awkward smalltalk.

Her honesty was rewarded with a real laugh, followed by a genuine smile "I only brought it up because he was right, what he said. Out of context it sounds unbelievably shitty...but he _was_ right. Don't think badly of him for it."

"Something tells me he wouldn't care."

"Maybe not, but I would," Cat shrugged.

The movie started up before much more could be said.

* * *

 _With The Lost Boys_

"Oh, lighten up. She's gone for three hours, tops," David groaned towards Paul across the cave.

Dwayne couldn't help but agree. By Paul's behaviour since Cat left, anybody would've thought there'd been a death in the family. That, or that his brother was an incredibly bored five year old - sighing dramatically, loudly, and frequently, all whilst staring around the cave with a bored expression on his face. Was he forgetting the decades and decades he spent without her around? Not that it didn't feel weird, he'd admit.

There was a time when having Cat around was odd, and took getting used to. Not that he didn't like her in the beginning, but a new member alone was something to get used to - a new member who was also a chick? Star had left a bad taste in all of their mouths, and he was glad that Cat had turned out to be so completely different. They'd gone a lot softer on her for her "initiation" than they usually would, solely for Paul's sake. No optical illusions, no outrageous dares - they didn't want to risk her running off and refusing to come back. They couldn't risk it. But in the back of his mind, Dwayne didn't doubt that Cat could've stood the usual shit they pulled on the newbies.

"Yeah, man, turn that frown upside down," Marko mocked, earning himself a middle finger for his efforts.

"It feels like the old days," Paul bemoaned "Back before she was here."

"Back before you were whipped," David jabbed before doing a poor impression of Paul's voice " _Babe_ , can I get you anything? Oh _babe_ , have I told you how hot you are in the last five minutes? _Babe_ , it's been five minutes since we gazed deeply into eachother's eyes!"

"I'm sorry we were such terrible company," Dwayne couldn't help but add to the mocking, just a little.

"Hmm...would I rather spend my night with a hot chick who's literally _meant for me_...or you smelly assholes? Yeah, I'm messed up in the head alright," Paul rolled his eyes before he released another dramatic sigh.

Dwayne leant back and chuckled quietly "I'd give anything to go back ten years and show you this right here. You'd puke."

"That's rich, coming from you," Paul snorted "You're jealous that Cat's the one on a date with the mortal and not you."

Groaning, Dwayne sat up in the chair "She's _hot._ Anybody with eyes and no obsession with British chicks can see that. It doesn't mean I'm gearing up to marry her."

"That's more your style, Paul," Marko grinned.

"Oh, c'mon. I settle down with one girl - who you all freakin' love - and suddenly I'm a serial monogamist."

"One more girl than any of us," Marko replied.

"And that's a big word for you," David joked "Maybe we should thank Cat for her influence."

"Fuck you."

"That's Cat's job," Marko said, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"I'm tellin' her you said that."

The worried look that Marko hid a little too late brought a triumphant grin to Paul's face...even if the complaining resumed five minutes later. Dwayne tuned it out, pretending to focus on the book in his hands. He couldn't help but be curious about what was going on with Cat and Tara. As much as his sister tried to hide her excitement about the trip to the movies, he'd seen right through it - and he didn't judge her for it, either. David's cynicism wasn't something he shared. If the girl was nice enough to help out during all the drama last month, he doubted she'd suddenly become a bitch now. He'd had his reservations about her motives, although they hadn't been as extreme as David's, but now that he knew she'd been through the same thing, it all made sense. It didn't mean he'd trust her with their secret; he wouldn't trust anybody with that nowadays...But so what if Cat wanted to hang out with her every now and then? That didn't automatically equate to telling her every little thing about them. He trusted Cat. She was young, but she was far from dumb.

...and deep down, he thought that seeing more of Tara every now and then wouldn't be a great tragedy. Admitting that, however, would mean subjecting himself to the same level of abuse currently aimed at Paul. He was more than happy to keep quiet.

* * *

"What did you think?"

"Eh," Cat shrugged a little, standing up alongside Tara.

"I thought vampire movies would be right up your alley," Tara snorted, and then regretted the joke when Cat fixed her with a startled look.

"Why on earth would you think that?" she sounded as bewildered as she looked.

"Your tattoo," Tara gestured to her wrists sheepishly.

"Oh!" Cat sighed, closing her eyes for a second "I forgot about those."

"It's an interesting design," Tara commented, putting her jacket over her forearm and leading the way out of the theatre.

One thing she couldn't help but notice was the looks of surprise they seemed to draw, people's eyes flitting between herself and Cat, and then back to Cat again. The only indication that the Lost Girl had noticed was the eyebrow quirk she gave anybody she caught looking. Apparently it _was_ so unusual for her to be away from her group. Tara couldn't help but feel a little flattered that she'd been the one to draw her away.

"It's the sort of unofficial Lost Boys motto - began as a joke, I think," Cat held out one of her wrists, reading 'PARTY ALL NIGHT' "I already had my tattoo for Paul, figured I'd get one for my brothers, too. It's in their handwriting - they each got one word per wrist. I'm lucky they're all literate."

Tara snickered "It's cute. I guess you weren't kidding when you called them family."

"Hmm…" Cat shrugged "Louis was terrible."

"Huh?" Tara blinked.

"Louis - from the film. He was awful. Honestly, I thought _I've_ been miserable lately. Compared to him, I'm a ray of sunshine."

"I liked him!" Tara protested "Lestat, though. What an ass."

"If you mean he had a great ass, yes. If you mean he _was_ an ass...well, yes, but he was the best one! I'd party with him!"

"No!"

"Oh, Tara," Cat sighed dramatically, turning a little as they walked "Our friendship had such potential 'til now."

"He danced with a corpse," Tara pointed out, but felt a rush of pleasure at Cat's words - specifically the word _friendship._

The Lost Girl had been friendly enough, but she was incredibly difficult to read. Another Britishism, perhaps.

"And he looked great while he did it," Cat grinned up at her.

Unable to hold back a laugh at that, Tara was overjoyed at the absolute banishment of the initial awkward atmosphere. Cat seemed heaps more at ease, too. They slowed their pace a little as they reached the front doors.

"You wanna come back to the cafe?" she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear "Aunt Carolina always bakes brownies during her shift."

Cat looked between her and then the doors "I'd love to, honestly - and not just for the brownies, which are the way to my heart - but I'm meeting the guys."

As if summoned, the faint roar of bikes reached Tara's ears and Cat smiled apologetically as the headlights began to shine through the glass of the double doors.

"I'll see you tomorrow night if you're working," Cat began her goodbyes once they were outside, hugging her briefly - which earned wolf-whistles from every single Lost Boy "I left my bike outside your shop, I'll pick it up then."

Unable to settle on whether she wanted to roll her eyes or laugh at the men's antics, Tara did both, even giving them a sarcastic wave as Cat made her way towards them. The more time she spent around them, the more she didn't understand their poor, or even sinister, reputation. Maybe the locals in Santa Carla just didn't get their sense of humour. She made her way home with a smile on her face.

* * *

Back when she was human, Cat didn't mind the odd vampire movie or two. Now? It was strange. Parts of the movie were laughable. The melodrama, the main character trying to live off of rats, how different they looked after being turned - even the neatness of their kills. Other parts weren't so funny. Cat's memories of her own turning were limited at best. She remembered the sex beforehand (during?), a sharp pain...and then waking up feeling different and weak, Paul holding her close. Whilst watching the spectacle on screen, Cat hadn't been able to stop herself from wondering what her turning had been like.

Initially, she hadn't asked about it because it was a sore point between them, and definitely one best left untouched. By the time that had passed and it was open for discussion, it no longer really crossed her mind. She was a vampire now, and that was that. How is occurred hardly mattered. In any case, the last thing she wanted to do was upset Paul by making him think it still weighed heavily on her mind. She truly held no grudge, and would happily tell him that until she was blue in the face - and sometimes it was required. The grudge had been gone for years, but not being able to remember her most life altering (or ending, depending upon how it was viewed) moment didn't seem quite right.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked quietly as they laid bed.

Shifting behind her, he sighed into the back of her neck "How come I get the feeling it won't be 'wanna go for round two'?"

Laughing, she jabbed an elbow at him "Not with that attitude."

"Heartless," he muttered, poking her in the ribs in retaliation "What's up, babe?"

"The sky."

" _Cat_. I'll laugh at a lot of your shitty jokes, but never that one. Now what do you wanna ask me?"

Part of her already regretted opening her mouth, but if she didn't ask now his imagination would run wild until she did.

"What was it like when...when you changed me?"

His arm was wrapped around her front, and she hugged it to her tightly as though trying to show him she wasn't upset. Paul was so silent, and for so long, that she began to worry he wasn't going to answer her at all.

"Why?" he sounded weary.

She slackened her grip on his arm, and his own grip slackened in return. This allowed her to turn to face him.

He stared into her eyes searchingly, a little paler than usual "Did this come from you hangin' out with that mortal?"

"Love, I'm not upset," she sighed, lifting a hand from under the covers to rest on his bicep "And I wasn't lying when I told you years ago that I wouldn't change anything."

He relaxed a little, arm tightening around her again and fingertips beginning to trace lazy circles on her lower back. It must've been clear that she had more to say, because he nodded for her to continue and she complied.

"It was a huge moment for me - for both of us. Hell, all of us. It sealed the deal on...on _all this_ and I barely remember a thing about it."

Exhaling loudly through his nose, Paul closed his eyes, and was silent until he opened them again.

"It's really that important to you?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise."

"I'll tell you, but just...Close your eyes, or turn around or somethin'. Just don't look at me. I wouldn't call it my finest damn moment."

Cat said nothing, choosing instead to close her eyes and press her forehead against his chest. It was only afterwards that Paul launched into the story. She hadn't expected to be very surprised, but she'd been wrong. Whilst she knew Paul felt guilty for it, she hadn't known the full extent of his panic on the night - that it might somehow go wrong, that she wouldn't turn, wouldn't wake up again. He certainly hadn't seemed nervous. Of course, she'd probably been too preoccupied to notice. She also hadn't known of her brother's involvement - that they'd come into the alcove to make sure everything was fine, afterwards. If she hadn't known them for so long, and wasn't so close to them, she'd have probably been embarrassed about them seeing her in such a state.

"Should'a done it with the damn 'wine'," he muttered, breaking the silence that settled after the end of his tale.

"No," she disagreed softly "I like the way it was done. It was...intimate, in our own little twisted way."

He snickered, dissolving the tension.

"Thanks for telling me," she sighed quietly, kissing the hollow of his throat "I promise, no more forced emotional talks for at least two weeks."

"I'll hold you to that. If this is what hanging out with that mortal makes you think about, I'll drain her myself," he sighed, leaning into her attentions "Hey, Cat?"

"Hmm?"

"...Can I ask you something?"

It was the last thing she expected to hear, especially now. Pulling back, she squinted up at him in the darkness "Of course."

"Wanna go for round two?" he struggled, and failed miserably, to keep the amused grin from his face and she rolled her eyes, smacking his arm.

But she didn't turn him down.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I got some absolutely phenomenal reviews lately that literally made my week (and arrived at a time when I was having a little bit of a crisis with my writing, so they made a world of difference and completely re-motivated me!) but the site is being odd and either not showing them (other than in the emails that I get telling me about them), or not letting me reply? If a review needs a reply, I always do if I can, so I'm sorry if the glitches made me seem ungrateful! Enjoy.**

After their first outing, Cat developed a habit of sitting by the counter whenever she visited The Hideout. Not that there was seating at the counter – she just grabbed a chair and pulled it over, but Tara didn't mind. The rest of the Lost Boys still regarded her with an odd sort of aloof amusement, but Cat reacted to it with eye rolls, so Tara took this as a sign that they didn't mean much by it. What she did take notice of was that Dwayne didn't join in with this.

Shaking her head at herself, she flipped over to the next page of her comic with a little more force than was necessary. There was no way she was doing this to herself. She gave an audible sigh of relief when the phone began to ring, grateful for a distraction. The Hideout was a graveyard that afternoon.

"Hello?"

"Tee! Hey!" Julian's voice greeted her, and any sense of relief vanished.

The universe was a bitch.

"Hi," she said shortly.

"Don't sound so excited to hear from me," he joked, blatantly unbothered by her tone.

"I'm working. You need to stop calling me here."

"Yeah, better watch out or your aunt might fire you," he snickered and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheek in annoyance "How's Santa Carla treatin' you?"

"Better than New York," she muttered, glancing up as the door opened and Dwayne walked in by himself and they made eye contact for a few brief seconds.

Now she was torn. If she hung up, it would look like she was purposely making herself available to him…but if she stayed on the phone, she'd have to continue with the conversation. There was already a menu lying on the table of their usual booth, so she didn't even have that as an excuse.

"Charming," Julian muttered, and a streak of guilt ran through her.

He hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Other than struggling to accept her reasons for breaking up with him – which she could admit might seem paper thin to anybody who hadn't been through what she had. Julian was a good guy…but that was it. Sure, she'd been put off of relationships, but if they'd had anything deep and amazing, surely that'd have put her off breaking up with him in the first place?

"Jules," she sighed, leaning against the counter "That's not what I meant."

"Doesn't feel like it. I mean, c'mon, every time I call you act like I'm trying to propose. Aren't you the one who said we can still be friends? Do you do this to Samantha when she calls?"

"Samantha doesn't want in my pants," she muttered.

"And how do you know I do?"

"Because I know _you_! You do this every time, Julian! Every single time!" she spun around, leaning against the counter "I'll let my guard down, we'll be friendly again, and then you'll make a move."

"What if I promise not to?"

"You can't help yourself. You never can."

"Oh, get over yourself, Tara," he snapped defensively, which said it all in her opinion.

"Fuck you," she snapped back, and spun around to slam the phone down on the receiver, only to come face to face with Dwayne.

He made a poor attempt at disguising a chuckle when she jumped in surprise "Trouble in paradise?"

"More like some people can't accept that there is no paradise," she sighed "I thought girls were meant to be the ones who fell apart over break-ups and _guys_ were the ones who wanted to keep it casual."

He chuckled openly at that, the look on his face something close to admiration. Tara opened her mouth to apologise for the unneeded personal information, a little embarrassed already, but was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone…again. Before she even had a chance to ignore it, Dwayne snatched it.

"Yeah?" he muttered, not taking his eyes from her – presumably gauging her reaction.

Curious, Tara gestured for him to continue. It wasn't like she cared too much if he did any harm. Having Julian look out for Emma every now and then had been a mostly unnecessary precaution – and one that she knew one of her other friends would happily take up, and probably with less guilt tripping too. She'd thought he'd have moved on like a week after the break-up, or if not then, definitely after she left New York. Apparently he was more stubborn than she gave him credit for. Maybe it was time to be cruel to be kind.

"Nah man, she's not, uh…she's not," he paused and gave a fake, but very sexual groan "She's busy."

Tara clamped a hand over her mouth, both horrified and highly amused. This earned her a grin.

"Can I – _fuck, doll, do that again_ – can I take a message?"

A muffled shriek of laughter escaped her at that, and she brought both hands over her mouth, listening to the faint stream of swearing that flowed from the receiver.

"Sorry, what was that? I'm kinda-."

Stopping abruptly, he blinked innocently at the receiver "He hung up."

That was when Tara gave into the laughter, allowing it to override the guilt that was beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. Her main problem was how hot she found the noises he'd been making.

"Thanks, I think," she breathed, shaking her head once she managed to calm down a little "Did he actually buy that?"

"Maybe not, but I don't think he'll call again tonight," he shrugged.

"Wouldn't count on that one," she muttered softly "Where's Cat? I thought she was the only one who travelled solo."

"Sometimes I feel brave enough to leave home without her," he teased, smirking a little "Date night with Paul. She might be by later, but you'll wish she wasn't. They're terrible after those things."

Just as she was about to reply, the door to the shop opened. Dwayne turned a little, giving her a view of David shouldering into the café, attention on the pack of cigarettes he was ripping the cellophane from.

"Hey, Dwayne," he muttered, glancing towards the booth and then stopping when he found it empty.

At first it looked like he'd intended to simply stand in the doorway, but when he caught sight of Dwayne at the counter talking to her, he adopted a smug smirk and sauntered towards them. Tara hoped her slight disappointment wasn't obvious. Not because she was no longer alone with Dwayne – no, of course not. That would be ridiculous. Completely and utterly pathetic, even…But no matter how much Cat defended him, something about David gave her bad vibes.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked, mock-innocence in his voice fooling nobody.

"Food," Dwayne muttered somewhat defensively, gesturing to her.

This brought David's attention to her. He gave her his usual disinterested yet amused look, and then the comic on the counter seemed to catch his attention.

"Nice reading material," he murmured, bringing Dwayne's focus to it.

Tara watched with confusion as his brow furrowed. Were they really that against the Frog brothers?

"I'm nothing if not sophisticated," she attempted to joke, only to earn a raised eyebrow from the blond.

She was slowly but surely beginning to like him less and less. Turning his attention to Dwayne, he gave a quiet sigh.

"Change of plans. Paul got into an… _altercation_ with some assholes who were slightly less than gentlemanly towards our little stray Cat."

Dwayne didn't seem to need any extra information, an amused smile lighting up his face as he chuckled "C'mon then, let's go."

David nodded, turning on heel to leave the café without a second glance.

"Later," Dwayne gave her a look that made her knees wobble just a little before following his friend out the door.

* * *

If Tara had thought she'd seen the last of the Lost Boys that night, she was sorely mistaken. Although it was neither of the ones she might expect. Her shift was well over, and Carolina was wiping down the tables whilst she hauled trash bags full of stale desserts towards the dumpsters out back when a high-pitched whistle made her jump out of her skin. Immediately she dropped the bag, hand flying to the small knife she kept at her belt, only for her panic to be interrupted by a laugh.

David stood at the end of the alley, and for a moment Tara wasn't sure whether she should even take her hand off of the knife or not.

"…Hey," she greeted him unsurely, lifting the bag again and practically throwing into the dumpster.

He watched her movements, giving her a slight nod. Apparently pleasantries weren't in his repertoire.

"You working tomorrow?" he asked simply.

"Uh…no," her brow furrowed, but before she could ask why he nodded in satisfaction.

"Good. We're having a bonfire down on the beach. You should come along."

Part of Tara wanted to demand why. David had made it clear that he was hardly fond of her (or if he was, he had an unbelievably bizarre way of showing it) so why would he, out of all of them, be the one to invite her to hang out? The rest of her, however, didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Cat was great company, and the way they sat and talked together made her reminisce of her friends in New York. By extension – although she'd said less than ten words to the guy – Paul had to be pretty decent, right? Marko, she couldn't get any kind of read on at all, although in the back of her mind she wondered if that was deliberate on his part. He always had a derivative of David's smug shit-eating smirk on his face when she was around…and Dwayne? Well, Dwayne was hot. She might've had no interest in relationships, but she certainly doubted he did either. As long as nobody got the wrong impression or, god forbid, _attached,_ she couldn't see much going wrong there.

If there was one thing Tara knew for sure about that group, it was that her friendship with Cat wouldn't go beyond sitting and chatting in the café if it meant Cat had to part from the Lost Boys for long. This wasn't something that she liked, for the girl's sake, but it was something that she didn't doubt was true. She also found it hard to believe she'd get another chance like this if she turned David down now. He didn't seem like a man who gave second chances.

Finally, she nodded "Sure. What time?"

"After dark," he shrugged, already beginning to leave "See you then."

"Yeah…bye," she frowned a little, questioning just why the hell he squicked her out so badly.

New York had hardly been full of reputable characters – especially not at the times, and in the areas, that she hung around in. David was just an arrogant ass with a motorbike. Harmless. It had to be all bravado. Surely.

Upon returning inside, Tara was met with a look from Carolina which almost made her think her aunt knew what was going on. Until she spoke.

"Julian just called," she sighed "I told him you'd gone to bed. He sounded…upset."

Tara didn't respond, other than making an irritated noise in the back of her throat. Grabbing a cloth, she began to wipe down the tables.

"Does he really deserve this, Tara?" Carolina pushed gently "It's not his fault. What happened with your parents-."

"I never said it was," she interjected.

"I know, I know…Just…You have an amazing knack for misdirecting your anger at times, sweetheart."

"I didn't break up with him because dad's an asshole, or because mom died," she grunted "I broke up with him because I didn't want to be with him. Or anybody, for that matter."

Fixing her with a motherly look for a few seconds – which Tara chose to ignore by focusing solely on the tables – Carolina finally sighed in defeat and changed the topic.

* * *

"Hey, is that my shirt?" Paul squinted at the Black Sabbath tee Cat had changed into since returning to the cave.

"…No," she blinked innocently, despite the fact that it more or less reached her knees.

"I married a bullshitter," he sighed dramatically.

"You can take it off me later," she snickered, sitting down and curling up beside him "And feel free to borrow any of mine."

"Great, if I'm lucky it'll cover my nipples," he teased, earning a prod in the ribs.

Sighing contentedly, Cat closed her eyes, huddling against Paul for warmth. She'd almost drifted off when Marko spoke up.

"Hey, where did David go?"

Opening her eyes, Cat looked tiredly around the cave, as though expecting to find the answer there. As if summoned, their brother swooped into the cave like an overgrown bat, landing haphazardly in the wheelchair.

"The Hideout," he supplied, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it to lie over the chair.

Cat perked up at this, visions of blood covering the boths and Tara lying grey and lifeless on the wooden floorboards " _David_..."

"Claws away, Cat," he smirked at her "I merely extended an invitation for her to hang out with us tomorrow night.

"What?!" Dwayne snapped at the same time as Cat asked "Why?!"

"I don't trust her," he admitted, dropping a lot of his usual bravado – which quelled Cat's temper just a little.

"What makes you say that, man?" Paul frowned, his arms tightening around her almost protectively.

"Did you see what she was reading tonight?" David directed the question towards Dwayne, shoving a cigarette between his lips.

"What, the comic book?"

"What comic?" Cat interrupted impatiently.

Paul's hand began rubbing her waist slowly, offering a small degree of comfort.

"The one those two dipshits on the boardwalk fore into the hands of every asshole they can," David grumbled.

" _The Frogs_?" Paul looked as relieved as Cat felt "C'mon, man, nobody takes those freakin' space cadets seriously."

"I didn't," Cat agreed with a shrug, relaxing again.

"Last person to accept that comic was an Emerson," David said simply, but it was all it took.

The cave fell silent.

"She mentioned them once," Cat was the one to break the silence "The Frogs. Asked me if I've met them, said they were bizarre. Told me Rambo junior tried to flirt with her."

"Looks like you've got competition, Dwayne," Marko snorted and received a glare for his efforts.

"What did you say?" David demanded intently, ignoring his brothers.

"Same spiel that Paul gave me back in the day," she sighed, placing a hand over the one on her waist "They wanted in, got told no, held a grudge and now they spend their time making up batshit stories for revenge."

"Good job," he nodded in satisfaction, but still didn't look totally happy "Just hope she doesn't know more than we think."

With that, the topic was dropped...up until Cat and Paul were getting ready for bed.

"Babe," he sighed quietly, pausing in the process of taking off his boots "I ain't ever gonna tell you what to do…Shit, not as if I could anyway."

Tilting her head, Cat tugged her shirt the rest of the way off before turning to frown at him in confusion "What's up?"

"I really, _really_ don't want you hangin' out with that waitress alone until we get this shit figured out."

It was difficult not to be touched by the concern that seemed to emanate from him – no matter how sheepish it was.

"You're that worried?" she asked softly, joining him on the mattress once her shorts were off.

"I dunno," he sighed, pulling her close once both boots were off, despite the fact that he still had his jeans on "You're tough, but out of all of us, you _look_ like the easiest target. Shit, next to us you look like fuckin' Thumbelina."

A snigger escaped her at that. He shrugged, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Say that...I dunno, she's doing some kinda undercover shtick. All it takes for you to drop your guard for two seconds and…" he shuddered for a moment before shaking his head "Well, y'know."

Cat doubted it, but she also knew how concerned she'd be if the tables were turned. Hell, she'd probably never let him out of her sight. It was this that prompted her to give him a small nod, turning her head and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I won't, love. I promise."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Double digits, and a super long one. I wasn't even sure where I wanted this chapter to go when I started it, but I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys are too!**

The closer it got to sundown, the more Tara was convinced she was making a mistake. David clearly didn't like her, so why on earth would he invited her to hang out with all of them? She wondered if she was taking his behaviour too personally. He didn't seem like the kind of person who really liked anybody – other than the Lost Boys, of course. Or maybe Cat had talked him into it. Shaking her head at herself in the mirror, she sighed. It was difficult to picture David being talked into anything he didn't want to do. This left her feeling like she was about to go defend herself in court. Hell, if Cat wasn't going to be there, Tara doubted she would've accepted the offer.

She liked Cat. Funny, smart and surprisingly kind, Tara hoped that these traits would extend to time spent with both her _and_ the Lost Boys. That way if David did have some kind of ulterior motive, she'd have somebody on her team. Although that would mean siding with somebody she'd only _really_ known for a handful of weeks over somebody who she considered her brother.

Yeah…The night ahead was likely to be a sure-fire shit show. But at least it'd be a shit show that she looked good at. Opting for a black spaghetti strap skater dress, along with a baggy purple off-the-shoulder sweater, she'd plaited her hair, allowing the platinum blonde streaks to show through. Hey, if it went well maybe she and David could end up sharing boxes of bleach. The mental image alone put a smile on her face.

"I'm going out!" she called quickly to Carolina and Johnny, speed-walking through the living room.

It took everything she had not to groan audibly when Carolina spun on the sofa, frowning a little.

"I don't know if you want to be alone on the boardwalk after dark," her aunt frowned at her.

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't just spend months on end slumming it in New York," she sighed.

"New York isn't murder capital of the world," Carolina shot back.

"Well…It's a good thing I won't be alone," Tara shrugged, continuing on her way until Carolina spoke up again.

"Oh, you're meeting Cat again?"

"Yeah…and the rest of them."

Now it was Johnny's turn to question her " _All of them_?"

"…The Lost Boys."

If she'd expected Johnny to pull some pseudo-fatherly bullshit on her about her choice of company, she would've been sorely disappointed. Instead he gave a bark of laughter, and lifted his drink in almost a salute to her "Good for you!"

Carolina wasn't so pleased.

"Tara," she groaned.

"Ah-ah!" Tara splayed a hand towards her "You're the one who keeps insisting you're not my parent and can't tell me what to do! You _like_ Cat! Hell, since you found out about what happened to her mom, she's been 'that poor girl' every time you see her!"

"It's not her I have the issue with, and you know it."

"Well, they're her friends. I wanna be friends with her, I gotta make friends with her friends."

It wasn't her sole reason for going. The Lost Boys were fascinating to her, and her aunt knew it. Tara was simply counting on the fact that she wouldn't _say_ it.

"Ha, you could be the second Lost Girl in history," Johnny muttered, resulting in a shove from Carolina.

"I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions, and my own mistakes. Weren't you a hippy? You should be all for this!" Tara gave a teasing grin.

Carolina said nothing, turning back around with a grunt. Tara took this as her sign to leave, giving Johnny an amused wave on her way out.

* * *

Finding the Lost Boys wasn't hard, mostly because they found her. Figuring she'd buy the next comic in the vampire series that the guy in the store had given her, she slipped in on her way to the beach. The place was busier during the night than it had been last time she was there, with a few teens standing in the corner looking so desperate to _not_ seem suspicious that they reeked of guilt. Tara wondered just how many comics they had hidden in their coats.

Edgar's eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw her. He hesitated for a moment before striding over, looking a little suspicious. Tara was beginning to assume that was just his face. People in Santa Carla were fucking weird.

"You're back," he grunted, somehow managing to make it sound like an accusation.

"I was going to pick up the second issue of that vampire series," she admitted "Maybe see if you had anything else similar."

The last one had given her more ideas than she had clothing to DIY. He seemed to perk up at that. Or at least, he didn't frown quite as much.

"You liked the last one?" he led her towards the horror section, eyes scanning the shelves thoughtfully.

"Sure, I love anything to do with vampires," she shrugged, glancing towards the storefront.

Hopefully the Lost Boys were there already. It was only that morning that she'd realised how vague David had been the night before. "On the beach" didn't mean shit in Santa Carla, and "after dark" meant less than shit with the early sunsets well set in. Scouring the beach for people who might not even be there wasn't an idea that filled her with a great amount of excitement.

"They're monsters," Edgar muttered, grabbing a couple of comics from the shelf.

It took her a second to remember what they'd been talking about, and to realise that he wasn't referring to the Lost Boys. Recollections of her conversation about them with Cat sprang back to mind. Yeah, Edgar Frog seemed like the kind of guy who held a grudge.

"I dunno, there's something romantic about the whole thing," she replied distractedly.

Fixing her with a steely glare, Edgar grunted. Somebody took their fiction a little too seriously.

"Murder is romantic now?" he scoffed, leading her towards the counter.

"Those women who marry serial killers on death row seem to think so," she muttered sarcastically, digging her wallet out of her tote.

Apparently this was the wrong move. Snatching the cash from her hand, he practically shoved the comics at her.

"Calm down, man," she blinked "It's fiction."

"Don't be so-."

When he looked up, something to her left at the storefront caught his attention. Then his eyes widened. Tara wouldn't have even noticed Cat standing there otherwise, but when she did she gave her a smile. Leaning against the doorway _just_ outside of the store, her eyes flickered between Tara and Edgar. Paul appeared a few moments later, hovering over her shoulder. Edgar visibly tensed.

"Hey guys!" Cat grinned, looking decidedly malicious "What are we talking about?"

"You're not welcome in this store," Edgar ground out, never taking his eyes from the couple.

"I'm not in your shop, Eric," Cat tilted her head, looking down pointedly at her boots, just toeing the line marking the entrance.

Edgar looked like he was beginning to reach under the counter, and Paul took a very deliberate step forward. This was when Tara's blood ran cold. Whatever feud was going on between these guys was no joke. If Cat was nervous it didn't show in her face…although the way she suddenly grabbed Paul's hand did.

"You coming, Tara?" she asked brightly, turning her head to look at her instead.

Between the odd look Paul was giving her, and the look of pure loathing that Edgar suddenly adopted, Tara suddenly felt like a deer in headlights.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she nodded, clutching the comics to her chest.

She couldn't get out of there fast enough.

* * *

The bonfire was quite a ways away up the beach – close enough to be able to see other fires dotted along the sand, but not enough to be able to hear much of other people. Not that she'd be able to anyway, with the way the boom box was blaring AC/DC.

"Somebody get the lady a drink," David called over it when they made their arrival, nodding at Tara in greeting.

Cat and Paul fell into the sand beside the bonfire, Marko sending a kick Paul's way once he settled. Dwayne was the one who stood and made his way to the comically over-packed and oversized cooler (how the fuck did they get that one on the bikes?) so Tara chose to follow him, rather than play third-wheel to the happy couple.

"What's your poison?" Dwayne asked, rifling through the bottles.

Most of them were water bottles, filled with what she guessed was anything but water. That, or the Lost Boys prioritised staying hydrated. Doubtful.

"What you got?" she shrugged, dropping her bag next to the cooler.

"Pretty much everything but absinthe," he snorted.

"We've got the vodka and the gin over here!" Cat called "…except I can't remember which one's vodka and which one's gin."

"Why the fuck did you get gin anyway?" David wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she shrugged before turning her head and sticking out her tongue, allowing Paul to drop a handful of tiny white pills on it.

It looked like when the Lost Boys partied, they really fucking partied.

"Uh, just a beer for now," she shrugged and thanked him when he handed her one.

"Codeine," he supplied at her questioning look towards Cat "Strong ones, too."

"Aren't you not supposed to mix that with alcohol?" she blinked, sending the girl a concerned look as she took a swig from the bottle of gin-or-vodka.

"It's fine," Cat shook her head "I'm sturdier than I look."

"Yeah she is," Paul grinned, earning eye-rolls and groans all around the bonfire.

Tara was just about to open her beer when it was snatched from her hands, and replaced by a water bottle full of some kind of amber liquid.

David smirked at her "Go hard or go home."

Rolling her eyes, she uncapped the bottle and took a swig. Whisky. Not excited at the prospect of being a component of a Cat and Paul sandwich, she was left with either David, Marko or Dwayne to side beside. It wasn't even a question, especially not seeing how David felt about her and how little she knew Marko.

"You can grab a beer if you want, y'know," he snorted a little at the bottle in her hand.

"Would I be judged relentlessly for it all night?" she raised her eyebrows.

"…Probably," he shrugged, smirking at her.

"Well then…cheers," she returned his smirk, holding up her bottle and taking another swig.

Tara hadn't drank much since leaving New York. Hell, she hadn't even really drank much _in_ New York. Sure, avoiding her home as much as possible at night presented a perfect opportunity, but working her ass off as in intern at the local tattoo parlour during the day offered the perfect reason not to. Staying awake was hard enough, throw in a hangover? Arriving in Santa Carla lessened the amount even more, however. Carolina was hardly a potential drinking buddy.

The result of this was that after a few gulps of whisky she was already feeling a slight buzz, beginning in her fingertips and her toes. She didn't mind, it calmed her, making her feel a little less like a lamb ready for slaughter. The looks she was getting every so often from David were working hard to undo that, though. They weren't outright glares, it was just like he was… _considering_ her. The same way a lion would consider a fucking zebra. But if there was anything Tara knew, it was that he'd thrive from a reaction. She'd be damned if she gave him one.

Instead she took off her sweater and stretched out comfortably in the sand, not missing the way Dwayne blatantly side-eyed her as she did so. When she arched her eyebrows at him, the corner of his mouth twisted upwards and he shrugged off his jacket. She stared openly, just as he had, and snickered at the smug look on his face.

"You do realise we're a fuckin' collective third wheel here, right?" Marko snorted to David.

"You always have each other," Cat grinned at him from Paul's lap.

"I'm good thanks, sis," he rolled his eyes.

There was that word again. "Sister". It still struck her as odd that they all viewed each other as family. Okay sure, they were close, but so were plenty of other people. Maybe they were all each other had? But that couldn't be right. After all, the fiasco with Cat's mom was almost what had launched her friendship with the girl. That raised a question. Why had she been told by letter? Where was Cat's real family? She was close to them, if her reaction to the phone call was any indication, but she never spoke of them. It seemed odd for a young woman to be so far away from home, with so little contact. Sure, she was hardly much different, but she was living with extended family - and she wasn't in a completely different country, either.

"Did you make that necklace?" Tara asked, both out of a need to distract herself from Marko's remarks (both the one about couples and the one about families) and genuine curiosity.

"Uh-huh," he nodded, turning to face her a little more, chin tilted upwards to expose it even more.

Tara couldn't help herself and reached out a hand to touch it. It was certainly very different from the stuff she made, although not in a bad way. Knick-knacks all held together with bits of twine and string. Stopping at what looked like a rodent skull, she ran a fingertip over the smooth bone. She didn't even notice the side of her hand straying closer and closer to his exposed chest until it ended up resting there. For a brief second it stayed there, and all she could think of was how /warm/ he was. Then she snatched her hand away.

"It's pretty," she murmured, turning to face the bonfire again.

"Not really the look I was goin' for, but I'll take it," he shrugged, visibly unfazed by her reaction to him.

Catching the amused look she was getting from Paul across the fire, she had to make a conscious effort not to scowl at him. She knew how it looked. Using a guy's clothing or accessories to get a chance to touch him was the oldest trick in the book, but certainly not one she'd just tried to pull. So why did she do it? If it had been one of the others wearing the necklace, she wouldn't have gotten that close. It had to be the alcohol. Tara furiously ignored how much that sounded like a shitty excuse, even to her own ears.

"So, uh, what are you guys gonna be for Halloween?" she changed the topic somewhat awkwardly, making a lame attempt at small-talk.

"A vampire," Paul deadpanned, sending Cat into fits of laughter which she poorly tried to muffle, pressing her face into his neck.

Even Dwayne was biting the inside of his cheek, lips wobbling in a visible effort to repress an amused grin. Tara gave a confused frown. Were they mocking her? She didn't think so...Or at least, she hoped she could take Cat's laughter as a sign that they weren't.

"We, uh, we should go see that movie," Cat breathed once she'd recovered "It was great."

"Never again. Not after Braveheart," Paul grumbled, shaking his head.

"You'd like Lestat," the Brit nodded to David, ignoring Paul's comment.

"What happened with Braveheart?" Tara asked with a frown.

"Miss Scotland over here took about five fuckin' hours to recover is what happened," grunted the blond "That and it should'a had freakin' subtitles, I swear. I'm sat there with no idea what's going on, and she's beside me crying her goddamn eyes out."

Waving a hand dismissively, Cat sighed "It's a good thing I don't have much of an accent then, isn't it? Our relationship would be comprised solely of letters."

"And Paul's barely literate," Marko snickered, earning a handful of sand hurled in his direction.

She'd almost accomplished her goal of forgetting her close proximity to Dwayne, but his laugh at Marko's teasing undid all of that. It was practically right in her damn ear, deep, low and painfully attractive. There was no way she was inching away, though. Not with David still scrutinising her every move. Taking another gulp from the bottle, she blinked in surprise at how much she'd managed to get through in such a short amount of time. Not that she was the only one, but nobody else seemed to be that drunk. The only difference to how they'd been when she first arrived was the way Cat was staring lazily at the tendrils of smoke rising from the fire - but that could've been the pills.

"You're a pretty hardcore horror fan then, huh?" David ignored his 'sibling's banter, leaning forward a little as he spoke to her "The movie, the comic...the jewellery."

"I dunno if the movie can really be considered a horror," Tara shrugged a little "But I guess, yeah. Mostly the monsters, though. The ghost stuff is kinda boring."

"You don't believe in ghosts?" he tilted his head.

"Do you?" she snorted "It's not about belief, it's about enjoyment. Ghosts bore me. Werewolves, zombies and vampires? Now they're interesting. Shit, when I was a kid I wanted to be a vampire."

Dwayne turned his head at that, and even Cat was staring at her in surprise. Oh c'mon. It wasn't that uncommon.

"How'd that work out for you?" David mumbled, focus on taking a pack of cigarettes from his jacket.

"I'll keep you updated," Tara rolled her eyes.

"Hey, just making sure you're not falling into the same void as the Frogs," Cat cut in, giving her a small but reassuring smile "I swear those creeps get off to those horror comics they hoard in there."

Tara laughed at that, relaxing a little "Ugh, don't. I'll never be able to go back there."

"You there often?" David cut in again.

Somehow he managed to make every question feel like an interrogation. All that was missing were a set of handcuffs.

"Twice so far, why?" she frowned.

"They...weren't too nice to Cat once they caught wind that she knew us," Dwayne spoke up now, tone a lot softer than David's.

...Oh. So this was concern? A small amount of guilt welled up in her chest at how cagey she'd been so far, Carolina's comment about her 'misdirecting her anger' springing to mind. Could it be that they were just looking out for the new girl?

"...What did they do?" she asked softly.

"Literally tried to drag me off the boardwalk and into their stupid shop. Arseholes waited until they had me alone - I was on my way back to the hotel after hanging out with the guys. They were spouting off conspiracy theories about them," Cat shrugged "Luckily, Paul saw and came over before anything could happen...but I mean, you saw what happened tonight. Bastards are unstable."

Thinking back to what had happened in the store, her brow furrowed. Sure, Cat and Paul hadn't been too friendly, but she'd seen the way Edgar had slowly began to reach underneath the counter. She highly doubted he had a water pistol hidden under there. Hell, his anger alone at her opinions on the comics had been bad enough. It was hard to imagine how they'd taken being rejected from the Lost Boys. Tara dearly hoped there was another comic store somewhere on the boardwalk.

"Enough of this sorry shit," David sighed, jumping to his feet and moving to the boom box, turning up the volume even more.

This effectively drowned out all possibility of conversation as "Rock n' Roll Train" started up. She couldn't pretend she wasn't glad. Before she was even fully aware of what was happening, Cat was dragging her up from the sand to dance. The Lost Girl was strong for her size. Tara had never been much of a dancer, but Cat's version of dancing seemed to be simply moving provocatively to the music, throwing a smirk or a teasing grin to Paul every so often, so Tara followed her lead. She was too tipsy to really care if she ended up looking stupid, anyway. This was probably why, half way through the dance, she couldn't stop herself from throwing a look to Dwayne.

Still sitting where she'd left him, David had taken up her spot and was muttering something to him. Whilst Dwayne was nodding and appeared to be paying close attention his eyes were still glued to her.

"You should try some pills!" Cat called over the music "You'll feel like you're floating! It's great!"

"Nah," Tara called back, shaking her head as she continued to dance "I don't think I'm as, uh, 'sturdy' as you."

"I'm sure Dwayne'd be more than willing to test that out," Cat shot her a teasing grin.

She could only stare in shock at that, and almost stopped dancing before she caught herself and continued, giving the girl a mock-glare in response to her laughter.

The night continued in much the same manner. Every time she finished a bottle, a new one was shoved into her hands, and she and Cat only stopped dancing when the mixtape was being changed - which Cat usually took as a smoking break, pulling a seemingly endless amount of joints from Paul's jacket and sharing them with him, laughing freely when he refused to take his hands off of her. Tara wondered if she and Julian had ever been like that. She didn't think so. Then she wondered if her parents had ever been like that. The question was enough to cut through her reverie.

"Having fun?" Dwayne's voice was enough to make her jump when he appeared beside her, offering a joint that he'd already smoked a little.

"Are you?" she shot back with a playful smile, accepting it and taking a draw.

"Yeah," he shrugged, making her struggle to hold back a laugh.

It was something she'd never tried much in New York, not wanting to give her dad another reason to bitch at her, and so she couldn't hold back a few coughs after she exhaled. Expecting Dwayne to laugh at her, she was surprised when he smiled almost fondly instead, accepting it back and inhaling deeply.

"Show off," Tara muttered, glad of the alcohol in her system making her feel a lot more at ease.

The booze had also allowed her to come to another revelation - she was taking the entire situation with Dwayne way too seriously. She'd spent so much time constantly telling herself "no relationships, only fun" and then when the potential for fun arose, she took it as seriously as the potential for a relationship (and she was willing to put money on the fact that that wasn't what Dwayne wanted, either). This aided her feelings of relaxation even more.

"And what do you call that dancing?" he teased right back, smoke billowing from his mouth as he spoke.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she shrugged.

"Uh-huh, sure," he side-eyed her "C'mere."

"What?" she blinked in surprise, sitting up a little.

"Relax," he snorted, giving her a look "I won't bite."

"Not yet, anyway!" Marko called over from the boom box as he rifled through the tapes.

Dwayne ignored him "It's easier this way - I'm gonna take a draw, inhale, then exhale it into your mouth...If you want."

"I know what a shotgun kiss is," she rolled her eyes a little, shifting so that they were more or less face to face.

"Is that a yes?" he quirked a brow.

Acting a lot calmer than she felt, Tara nodded. The boom box kicked up again, this time blaring Motley Crue's _Girls, Girls, Girls_. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Paul pull Cat up for a "dance", that was really more of a groping session, but the girl didn't seem to mind. Shit, if anything she was practically glowing. It was almost enough to distract Tara from Dwayne. Almost. He was watching her carefully as he took a draw, almost as though he expected her to change her mind. That sealed her determination. She was almost surprised to find that it wasn't nerves she was feeling, but anticipation.

When he pulled the joint away from his mouth they both leaned in, lips inches away from each other as he blew the smoke towards her mouth and she inhaled quickly. Then she chose to surprise him. Once there was no more smoke left to inhale, she closed her lips, but stopped him from pulling away, raising a hand to the side of his jaw. If he was surprised he didn't show it, following her lead and moving one of his hands from his side to her waist, pulling her closer, too. The kiss was innocent - barely more than a peck, and lasting no more than three seconds - but after weeks on end of looks and cautious barely-there flirting, she felt like a junkie scoring for the first time in weeks.

After she pulled away to breathe the smoke out, a millisecond passed, their eyes met, and they were on each other again. The kiss was nothing in comparison to what was going on with Cat and Paul a few feet away, but it didn't feel that way. Dwayne was bare from the waist up, and Tara's dress was hardly the most modest thing in her wardrobe. She was all too aware of his jeans rubbing against her inner thighs, the heat of his chest against hers, and the confidence in his grasp. His mouth moved against hers with such a sense of urgency that she couldn't help but feel a little smug. So she hadn't been the only one quietly going crazy.

They only pulled apart when a piercing wolf-whistle reminded them that they weren't alone. The four remaining Lost Boys were all giving them smug smiles. Tara didn't move for a few seconds, still straddling Dwayne's lap, hands resting on his heaving chest. Then she started to laugh. Dwayne soon joined in, shifting as she moved off of him. It only worsened when she saw the lipstick smudged around his mouth.

"...On that note," Cat began, amusement lacing her tone "Paul and I are heading home."

It was only then that Tara noticed how little Paul seemed to be interested in them, his sole focus on Cat and his attempts to pull her away. The couple took a few steps away, when Cat suddenly paused and began to run back (prompting a dramatic groan from Paul). She landed roughly in the sand beside Dwayne, tugging on his hair jokingly so she could whisper something in his ear. Tara couldn't make out what she was saying - but she doubted she'd be able to even if she'd screamed it, she was so busy trying to recover from what had just happened and the pure relief coursing through her over it. She couldn't believe how dramatic she'd been over the whole thing. Over her attraction to him. Hell, had he been waiting for her to calm down and do that? She should've done it the first day she saw him.

Dwayne chuckled at whatever Cat said, ruffling her hair and shoving her back towards Paul. Once they were gone, he turned to her.

"Want me to walk you home? It's getting late."

"Sure," she breathed, snatching up her sweater and bag "Bye guys, it's uh...it's been fun."

"I'm sure it has," David smirked at her, giving a small sarcastic wave.

Marko settled for a nod. Sliding her feet into her sandals, she began to follow Dwayne along the beach. He was right, it was getting late. The beach was getting quieter now, and most of the stores and amusements on the boardwalk had shut down. She hadn't even realised her lack of sobriety until she had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other - at one point even stopping to pause so she could slip her shoes off, making it easier to walk. It took a few moments for her to gather her thoughts enough to talk.

"This...uh...This isn't anything serious," she'd meant it as a question, to ask him for reassurance, but it came out as a statement.

"Nah, far from it," he agreed with an amused smirk "I'm not that kinda guy. Why, you falling for me?"

"Sure," she snorted "One night and I'm sold. Should we live in your place or mine?"

"Hey, that's basically how Cat and Paul wound up - gotta make sure you're not as crazy as them," he teased.

"Well, maybe I'll find myself a nice Scotsman and run off happily into the sunset," she wrinkled her nose even at the thought "Cat has a brother, right?"

Dwayne laughed, shaking his head in amusement. It was amazing how much awkwardness could disappear with a kiss or two...and copious amounts of alcohol. When they reached The Hideout, she led him round the back, near the dumpsters, to the fire escape which led up to her bedroom window.

"You wanna come in?" she asked softly, gesturing to the ladder.

"You're drunk," he shook his head "Maybe next time."

"Assuming I allow a next time," she shrugged with a teasing smile.

"You will," he gave her a half-smile in return "I'm irresistible."

Stifling her laughter so she wouldn't wake up Carolina, she shook her head. Sensing that their conversation was at an end, Dwayne gave her a boost so she could reach the ladder and begin her climb.

"Nice view!" he snickered as she struggled upwards in her dress, cold metal digging into her bare feet.

"Fuck you!" she hissed back.

"Probably, some day."

The next time she looked down, he was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Happy New Year! Sorry for the silence - even I didn't know it was coming until it just kinda happened. Long story short, I had a birthday, during which I had to travel around without technology/focus on life, then there was an endless stream of deadlines, then personal life stuff happened. Hopefully the longer than usual update makes up for it a little - I handwrite all rough chapter drafts, this one ended up being around 13 pages, when usually they're like four at most. Sorry if there are any lurkers who prefer shorter chapters - and thank you guys so much for sticking with me and continuing to review/message even when I'm absent. The idea of people actively checking for updates is pretty surreal to me, but very much appreciated and very flattering/encouraging and it means a lot. And hello to the people who subscribed whilst I was gone!**

* * *

Tara woke up the next morning feeling decidedly delicate. Then her cheeks burst into flames when she remembered the events of the previous night. With a groan, she rolled over and buried her face into the pillow. She'd really done it. She'd kissed Dwayne. What hit her more than the abject mortification was the relief. Her attractions (and more importantly, intentions) were clearly reciprocated, after all - and she'd have never made a move without a little liquid courage. This had to be a best case scenario, given the circumstances.

The only potential roadblock could be Cat, but the brunette clearly had no issue if her behaviour last night was anything to go by. And to think, Tara had once suspected that Cat and Dwayne were a couple. Now the only issue playing on Tara's mind came in the form of the three remaining Lost Boys. She'd had fun the night before, and they'd seemed to have adopted an attitude of "if she's cool with Cat, she must be okay" - but Tara had no pretences that she wasn't being tolerated, at absolute best. So how had Cat fallen in so deep with them? Especially as such an outsider - being the only Brit, and the only female. From what Tara knew about motorcycle gangs, and guys like the Lost Boys in general, was that to them, girls were "bitches" and their "old ladies" - never members. A girlfriend was rarely seen as such a big part of the group. Hell, guys were mocked for being close to them. "Sister" they called her...and she was sure she'd even heard "wife" slip past Paul's lips. Tara couldn't imagine any of them being so open and almost loving, if she hadn't seen it. Then again, it was clear that _all_ of the Lost Boys shared some kind of pretty deep bond. Maybe she was being misogynistic for thinking that being a chick would exclude Cat. Maybe it really did all boil down to chemistry and personality types.

Heaving a sigh, Tara rolled out of bed and reached for the nearest dress. She made it out of her room in record time, clad in loose-fitting silky black skater dress, ripped tights and clunky black boots, plaiting her hair as she wandered into the kitchenette.

"You were out late last night."

Jumping at her aunt's voice, she spun and smiled innocently "I had fun."

Carolina gave her a long, searching look before nodding with a sigh "Good. I suppose it's better than you locking yourself away in that room, pouring over references or sketches or whatever. There's productivity, and then there's...you."

Tara's eyebrows rose in surprise "Even if I'm with the Lost Boys?"

"Yeah, well, so long as _you_ don't get lost, sweetheart," Carolina sighed, nursing her coffee mug in both hands "View Cat's story as a tragedy, not a romance. Ain't no way that girl didn't give up a future to stay here with that boy of her's. You know I heard her preaching to him about narrative technique in surrealism one night? Sounds all high class when she starts like that, no? Educated."

Tara's own suspicions and curiosity over the couple rose and stirred uncomfortably within her.

"This place isn't the endgame for you, sweetheart," Carolina continued "Don't you forget that when you're out there, with them."

"Dwayne and I aren't Cat and Paul," Tara snorted without thinking, and then winced when she realised her slip-up a fraction of a second later.

"You and Dwayne?"

"They, uh, make fun of us - say we flirt. It's nothing. Just giving the newbie a hard time," she waved a hand dismissively.

"I wondered why you were wearing lipstick."

"I wear lipstick for myself, damnit."

"Like I said, just be careful, Tara. You have something with this art. Don't wanna see you waste it over some douchebag. _She_ wouldn't have wanted that for you," Carolina's voice lost the joking tone it had adopted, her voice quietening just a little.

"...Yeah," Tara huffed, avoiding eye contact.

* * *

"I should open the box."

"Huh?" Paul grunted into her shoulder, still half asleep.

"The box. I think it's time," Cat nudged him with her elbow.

"How do you think so hard so soon after sunset, girl?" He groaned, holding her tighter "Ain't natural."

"Said the vampire," she laughed softly "And when do you _ever_ think hard? And don't respond with an innuendo."

"What's the use of immortality if I can't spend a few mindless hours, naked with a chick in my bed?" She could hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

"That, my love, is how you spend half of your life."

"And I aim to keep it that way."

"Don't worry, I'd hate to interfere with your strict regime," she snickered.

A few moments of silence passed, during which she was very aware of Paul shifting every so often behind her - tell-tale signs that he was waking up and his brain kicking into gear. When he broached her original topic again, Cat was already expecting it.

"You sure it's a good idea?" He sighed, rolling onto his back "You've been a lot better recently. Happier. Don't want all that to come undone."

Cat rolled over to face him, fingertips beginning to trace patterns in the light smattering of chest hair he had.

"Exactly," she nodded, looking up at him "I've been good lately. I can handle it now. Don't worry, love, I won't fall to pieces over some old keepsakes."

His silence told her he wasn't convinced, but she also knew that he wouldn't try to interfere if she really had her heart set on it.

"Okay," he nodded eventually, returning her gaze thoughtfully - although with tired eyes "You wanna do it alone or…?"

"Not really," she admitted "If you don't mind listening to some old memories."

"C'mon, this is me we're talkin' about," he rolled his eyes, skimming his thumb across her cheekbone "How many times have you sat through my woodstock acid trip story, huh?"

"Enough to tell it in my sleep," she admitted "I'm pretty sure David'll beat you to death with the stick you caught if you tell it again."

"Jealousy'll do that to a guy," he gave a mock-sigh "Very good year...I can think of a better one, though."

Cat laughed openly at that "Oh please, you're just happy to have a guaranteed lay."

"Guaranteed?" His eyebrows rose "Babe, I hate to break it to you, but you're kinda high maintenance."

"Fuck you!"

"Speaking of which, I wonder what happened with Dwayne and your little friend last night," his tone lost a little of it's lightness, and some of the groggy haze cleared from his eyes.

"Let's hope she lived to tell the tale," Cat wondered in hindsight if it had been a good idea to leave Tara alone with her brothers.

"If he's wise, she didn't...which probably means she's fine."

With a soft laugh of agreement, Cat hid her relief "C'mon, I want to get this opened and out of the way before the rest get up."

After they ensured they were at least half-dressed, Paul helped her drag the box into the alcove, before closing the curtains behind them again and settling back down beside her, the box lying on the mattress. Cat held back an amused laugh at the dubious look he was sending it. Anybody would have thought it contained monsters. Monsters would probably scare her less, though. Trying massively to calm the shaking of her hands, she carefully cut open the tape with her Bowie knife (an anniversary gift from Paul one year - she still remembered the hell that was practising how to use it with David). After cutting through the tape, and then the thick layer of bubble wrap inside the box, she took a quiet breath in at what she saw.

"Cool," Paul blinked as she pulled out the bundle of dark green and purple tartan.

"It's kind of an heirloom," she explained softly, shaking it out to show him the tattered, barely legible label on the inside of the shawl "The firstborn son gets a knife when he turns twenty-one, the girl gets this...Or, well, _got_ this, I suppose. It ends with me."

Pulling it somewhat awkwardly around her shoulders, Cat was jarred at the sudden onset of familiarity. Standing so that she could put it on properly, she continued her story - unsure if she was even talking to Paul or herself at this point.

"I used to try it on in her mirror in her bedroom all the time," she murmured.

Cat was shorter and a little slimmer than previous women in her family, so it drowned her just a tad in comparison to them - but she still loved it. The longest parts of the shawl stopped just above her knees, and the tartan was cozy, warm and smelled of her old life. It was surreal, having her two worlds collide in the form of a box - although not quite as shocking as when her brother had appeared in Santa Carla.

"You okay?" Paul pulled her from her memories, and she realised she'd been standing there on the mattress in vacant silence.

"Let's keep going," she nodded, sitting back down.

In the end, she wasn't surprised the box had been so damned heavy. Jamie had been surprisingly thoughtful in preparing the box, even despite his suspected resentment. The parcel contained some of her mother's old punk vinyls, tapes from Cat's own collection (in fact, she was surprised at the amount of her own belongings in there. Probably stuff he couldn't have snuck away without drawing attention.), a couple of photo-albums, old jewellery - some meaningful, some not - random pieces of clothing belonging to either her or her mother...and then a stack of papers at the very bottom. Cat's heart sank at the post-it on the front in Jamie's hand. "She wrote these to you, afterwards - J x".

"Shit," she sighed, eyeing the rather impressive stack of folders and large, padded envelopes.

"What is it?" Paul asked, looking ready to brace himself for tears.

"Five years worth of grieving, I suspect," she sighed bleakly, dropping the bundle to the mattress "Let's get ready for tonight."

At first he looked like he might pursue the topic, but then eventually nodded, pulling her to him for a slow, soft kiss before she could move. That, at least, cheered her up a little.

Twenty minutes later, the cave had come alive.

"I don't get it," Marko shrugged, messing with his hair in a shattered mirror full-length they kept.

"Don't get what?" Dwayne grunted from the sofa, still in the process of waking up.

"The chick, man," he rolled his eyes "Why her and not the hundreds of other girls on the boardwalk every night? This ain't a Cat and Paul kinda thing is it? I dunno if I can deal with two pairs of you trying to make me puke at every turn."

"Hell no," Dwayne snorted, rubbing at his eyes "I'd have felt it...You think you wouldn't know if it was like that?"

"Had to ask," Marko shrugged again "And that ain't a real answer."

"There's a lot to be said for familiarity," Cat piped up, looking between the two of them as she caught the ass-end of their conversation.

Dwayne hadn't really spoken to Cat about what had happened. She was sure he'd have been a lot more inclined to seek out some kind of blessing if she hadn't whispered "if you don't screw her, I will!" jokingly in his ear before she took off with Paul the night before. Other than that, she hadn't commented on it too much, either - at least not to anybody other than Paul. In all honestly, she pleased to have another girl around, and that Dwayne clearly felt the same way, even if for different reasons. It would've made it two against three if the others had decided they disliked her. Luckily, they seemed to like her...or at the very least, they were amused by her. With the Lost Boys, that was a good start, even despite Paul's distrust.

"How would you know, little miss 'tried to have a fling, got married instead'?" Marks smirked at her.

"Hey, bro, don't blame her - she has no way of knowing I'm just a naturally phenomenal screw," Paul chimed in, a wolffish grin on his features.

"David, can I talk to you?" She chose to wisely ignore what was no doubt the beginning of a bickering session between Marko, Dwayne and her beloved "husband".

Amusement fizzled from the blond's face, and he followed her wordlessly to the alcove.

"I need a favour," she sighed somewhat reluctantly once out of the way of the others, noticing how his eyes flickered to the box, but betrayed nothing.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he shrugged, interest clear in his voice.

"Take these," she lifted the bundle from the mattress "And only let me read 'em if you think I'm ready for it."

"Contents private?" He asked, accepting them easily.

"Very private. Potentially traumatising, even," she tucked her hands into her jeans pockets "I, uh, defer to your judgement. I trust you."

David nodded, and surprised her by patting her shoulder with his free hand.

"Why me?" He asked, stopping her as she made to move away "I mean, why not Paul? Seems the obvious candidate.'

"You're less biased, more stubborn...less susceptible to sexual bribery."

Such open, blunt affection as Cat had just displayed was uncommon between the Lost Boys, but it made David in particular uncomfortable - which was why she joked, instead of commenting on the fact that he looked a little flattered.

"Touché," he chuckled "C'mon, let's go. I'm starving."

* * *

Tara ended up settling down in a booth with some art supplies as Carolina took the afternoon shift. Every time the doors chimed open, she glanced up to see if it was a Lost Boy, which earned her aunt's concerned gaze every time. When the Lost Boys did eventually appear, it was all together, snickering at a joke Marko was wrapping up. Her eyes skimmed over them, noting Cat's colourful shawl, the oddly good mood David looked to be in...and the way Dwayne was staring at her, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes flickered to Carolina, then he chuckled a little, nodded at Tara in greeting, and slid into the booth beside his friends.

"Tara!" It was then that Cat caught sight of her, waving her over with a small, knowing smile "Join us!"

She glanced down at her paints, very aware of Carolina's proximity.

"Dwayne, don't just sit there," apparently no mood was good enough to eliminate David's mockery "Help the lady with her things!"

"Chivalry is truly dead," Cat joined in the teasing, sending Tara a genuine smile, which took the edge off of the teasing.

"Hey!" Paul protested "What about me?"

"You killed it," Dwayne deadpanned, earning a chorus of snickers as he stood from the booth.

Apparently she didn't have much of a choice in joining them. She followed Dwayne's example, standing from the booth, before handing him anything that didn't require extreme care or caution (and ignoring the smirk that remained on his face). Even so, she was surprised at the great care he showed what she'd given him to carry for her, and slid into the booth once everything had been gently set down on the new table. Dwayne slid in beside her, sandwiching her between himself and David.

"New stuff to sell?" He asked, gesturing to the miniature half-finished portrait of Marilyn Monroe, which she intended to attach to a necklace at some point.

"Cool hobby," Marko nodded, although his inspection of her work was more dismissive than Dwayne's.

Cat and David both eyed the work-in-progress with interest - although David's was more begrudging than Cat's - and Paul didn't bother.

"I wanted to go to art school back home - dad wasn't willing to support," she shrugged "Carolina figured I could make myself a quick buck or two."

"Maybe you can rescue me from these philistines," Cat joked.

"Have you studied?" Tara asked, tilting her head "It's free over in the UK, right?"

"Literature. Dropped out to move here," Cat's tone was casual, but suddenly her movements became a little wooden, her shoulders hunched "Was fun. Opened my mind to some good books."

Paul seemed to be able to look anywhere but at his girlfriend, and the relief was visible on Cat's face when Carolina chose that moment to appear.

"Good evening gents, ladies," she greeted brightly, although the look in her eye was analytical "You ready to order?"

"Oooh, my kingdom for a mocha and a chocolate croissant!" Cat smiled sweetly, earning one in return.

"Just two dollars, Cat," Carolina joked a little, making note.

"Happens to be roughly what my kingdom's worth," the Brit quipped with a crooked grin, earning a snicker or two from the booth.

The boys all ordered simple coffees, and Tara waved a hand to signal that she was fine, oddly nervous about her aunt's departure because she knew it would signal the start of real conversations on real topics - such as the previous night. She was all too aware of Dwayne's presence at her left.

"Feeling a little rough today, Tara?" David asked brightly.

"How's the memory?" Paul smirked, earning a quiet laugh from Cat, who sat directly across from her.

"I'm fine," Tara snorted "And so is my memory."

"Just fine? Dwayne, I'm disappointed," Cat teased, earning an eye-roll from her victim.

Dwayne shifted a little "Well, y'know what they say. Live and learn...practise makes perfect...all that good shit."

Tara snickered, almost fucking up a detail in her painting as the rest nodded in mock-respect of his comeback.

"You got any plans tonight?" Cat questioned once the laughter died down.

"I wanna go look at the missing person's board, actually," Tara admitted, setting down the paintbrush she'd just finished cleaning.

She jumped at the choked noise that seemed to involuntarily escape Cat's throat, but it was Paul who responded first.

"Why?" He frowned at her.

"I have an idea for a...bigger scale project. A statement piece. It's not all clothing and jewellery," she joked weakly, earning no laughs.

"And what statement is that?" David asked, his mocking tone all too familiar at this point.

There was a brief pause as Carolina returned with their food, which Tara was grateful for because it allowed her time to gather her thoughts and wonder why something as stupid as an art project had suddenly soured the atmosphere.

"The statement…" she began after her aunt's departure "I guess, would be that so many faces pass on that board every day, even just since I got here, that we don't even notice anymore. We don't think. Hell, it's almost a cute little quirky landmarks for tourists at this point. I want to make people notice them. Tell their stories."

It sounded good in her head, but the Lost Boys looked less convinced than ever.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Cat's voice was soft after a very awkward silence.

"Why not?" Tara blinked in surprise.

"You're dredging up a lot of pain for a lot of people, for the sake of an art project," she pointed out, picking at her croissant "These are their lives."

"The best art comes from darkness. It's why art exists," Tara shrugged, keeping the defensiveness from her tone as best she could.

"Yes, but it's not _your_ darkness, is it?" Cat ground out.

"It wasn't Steven Spielberg's pain when he made Schindler's List. Or James Cameron's with Titanic. It's irrelevant," Tara gave a laugh that sounded forced, even to her own ears.

"Okay, Spielberg," Cat muttered, prompting a rather obnoxious laugh from Paul and a chuckle from Marko, which only annoyed Tara more.

"...Anyway," she continued after nobody else spoke up and Cat went back to pulling apart her croissant "I figured I'd look at the board, get a few photos...maybe see if the town library or something has any public records. I'm just gathering sand to make a sand castle right now."

"Well, good luck with that," Paul muttered, his tone bored as he squeezed Cat's shoulder.

The atmosphere around the table was unlike one she'd ever felt around the Lost Boys before. At home? Definitely. But not here.

"You were asking if I had plans," she coughed uncomfortably.

"We're gonna catch the gig on the boardwalk tonight," Dwayne chose to answer for Cat, who suddenly seemed to only be interested in her 'dinner' and Paul, but the tension did ease a little with the change of topic "Figured we'd invite you to come along...Plus, if you want, I'll go with you to the board or library or whatever...show you around, give you a local's point of view."

It didn't escape her notice that Dwayne's eyes met Cat's across the table when he made his second offer.

"Uh...Okay, sure," she nodded, not knowing what to make of any of it "I'll just go grab my things."

Dwayne let her out of the booth and she left for the apartment, supplies in hand, and very aware of how the table burst into hushed whispers the moment she was adequately out of earshot.

* * *

"This isn't good," Cat said, watching the girl retreat.

"You two need to play it cool," David spoke somewhat sternly to her and Paul "More you react like that, higher potential it'll bite you in the ass."

Cat nodded in resignation - there was no arguing with David when he became all business like this. In any case, he was right. She'd panicked, and she'd allowed it to get the better of her. Then, of course, her panic had fuelled Paul's, and it had all gone downhill from there.

"Dwayne, you good to keep tabs on where she goes with this? Maybe run a little interference, should the need arise?" The de-facto leader continued.

Dwayne nodded without hesitation. With a sigh, Cat drained her mug and pushed what remained of her croissant towards Paul. He accepted it with his right hand, whilst using her left to grip her hand under the table reassuringly. No amount of reassurance would convince her that everything hadn't just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Everything seemed to return more or less to normal once Tara returned with her jacket and bag, and they left for the Boardwalk venue - although she noticed that Paul and Cat were a little more insular than usual, with Cat being ever so slightly frosty, and Paul sending her the odd frown. It might have troubled Tara, if she wasn't so distracted by Dwayne's presence. In the back of her mind, she'd been worried that he may regret the events of the night before after some sleep and sobriety. It happened to the best - hell, she'd done it to some poor bastard before. His smirk had suggested otherwise, although it was possible that he was worried she had the same regrets. Repressing a sigh, she glanced towards him as he stood to her left. This was getting ridiculous. With a cheeky smirk, she kept her eyes on the stage before leaning towards him and giving him a light, playful nudge with her shoulder. Once she chanced a look at him, she was met with a playful look which matched her own before he nudged her back. So everything was sunny on that front, at least.

Tara almost wanted to ask him what was up with Cat, but refrained. He was Cat's brother before he was her potential friend-with-benefits, of that she had no doubts. Word would inevitably reach Cat if she was less than incredibly careful in her line of questioning.

"I'll go get drinks - beer?" He asked during the too-long guitar solo in the middle of the set.

"Yeah, thanks," she nodded, grabbing a crumpled dollar from her bag, which earned her an amused eye-roll as he walked away without accepting it.

Once he'd disappeared into the crowd behind them, Tara watched in surprised relief as Cat gently removed Paul's arm from her waist before approaching.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she leaned in a little, raising her voice over the guitar "It uh...hit a nerve. Ancient, historical landmine shit - wasn't anything personal."

"Oh, I...Uh, I see," Tara nodded, surprised by her frankness, but finding the sheepishness on the girl's face too endearing to question her.

"Keep me up to date on it," Cat shrugged, and Tara noticed how Paul looked towards them for a few moments, as though checking up on them.

Very odd. Whatever it was, Cat seemed unfazed by it, and lingered beside her.

"I will, don't worry about it," she turned her attention back to the Lost Girl with a smile, glad that the blip was seemingly over "So what do you think of the band?"

"I think they need to branch out beyond those three chords, and stop wearing their sisters' jeans," Cat snickered, nodding at Dwayne when he returned "I'll leave you guys to it."

Shaking her head when Dwayne offered one of the beers in his hands, she smirked at the two of them "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

With that, she was back at Paul's side - who'd chosen to amuse himself by tricking Marko into thinking the stranger behind him kept tapping his shoulder when he wasn't looking. Tara gave it two more times (if Paul remained uncaught) before it came to blows. Upon realising that Cat was back by his side, his eyes skimmed over Tara, before moving to Dwayne where they lingered as he frowned a little. It was starting to look like it wasn't Cat with the problem. Carolina's warning sprang unbidden, but still fresh, to her mind. "There's no way that girl didn't give up a future for him." How much truth was there to her aunt's theory? Tara shifted uncomfortably, taking a sip of her beer.

"You wanna go look at the board?" Dwayne asked, leaning in close to avoid yelling.

The Boardwalk would be crazier than usual once the gig let out, and she had very little desire to see the brawl about to break out in front out them. Overall, leaving early seemed wise, and it meant she'd be alone with Dwayne.

"Lead the way," she gestured, allowing him to clear a path in front of her through the crowd, gripping onto the sleeve of his jacket to avoid separation.

They only spoke properly once they were free of the crowd, intact, with beers mostly unspilled.

"What happened back there with you n' Cat?" He asked casually.

Not the topic she'd been expecting.

"She was apologising. Felt bad about earlier."

"Typical Cat," he nodded, unsurprised "Never stays mad long without good reason. Hell, not with good reason. Girl'd apologise for global warming if she felt the need."

"What do _you_ think of the project?"

Although undeniably pleased by the apology, Tara wasn't convinced that Cat was truly supportive of the project - just selective of her battles and eager to keep the peace. Maybe that was how one survived with the Lost Boys. The lack of support didn't bother her too much though (at least not if it wasn't going to interfere with any friendships). It was part of art - she'd rather create something that everybody hated, rather than something that inspired nothing but indifference. Dwayne was looking at her thoughtfully.

"Why do you want my opinion?" He asked eventually.

"Well, I'll admit that it's not as hot as your body," she teased with a smirk "C'mon, man, that's such a cop-out. I'm a big girl, Dwayne. I promise not to cry too much if you don't like my ideas."

"I've been a big fan of some of them," he offered and she laughed, elbowing him gently.

His face turned thoughtful once more and he bit the inside of his cheek before sighing heavily "Honestly, I get the idea, and I guess the fact that you want to pay homage to Santa Carla's lost is..uh...sweet?"

He didn't sound too sure, but continued on anyway "But that's all in _theory_. Really? Everyone'd just rather not be reminded."

"From your perspective."

"Hell, doll, not just mine."

"Cat's, then? Has she... _lost_ someone?" She asked before she could stop herself.

So much for tact.

"It was just her rather, uh, strong reaction," she quickly elaborated when he directed a frown in her direction.

"Nah, Cat's cool," he shook his head casually "Just sensitive at times."

"And Paul?"

She may as well continue digging whilst she was on the topic, shovel in hand.

"What about Paul?"

"He keeps looking at me like I crapped in his cereal."

The Lost Boy laughed openly at that, shaking his head "You're paranoid."

"I'm not!"

"He's protective of his girl - nothing more, nothing less," he shrugged her protests off "Here we are - Santa Carla's purgatory."

Tara hadn't even realised they'd reached the board. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the faces on it - men and women of every age and race - although there was a noticeable lack of children. That, at least was a relief, especially when she played with the idea of Emma visiting sometime. Overall, though, the whole display chilled her to the goddamn bone...Although her recent associations with the Lost Boys admittedly made her feel a little safer. It was clear that not many messed with them.

"So who do you think is responsible?" She asked, pulling her camera from her back to grab a few quick shots of the board.

"I look like a cop?" He eyed her curiously.

"No, you look like a local. C'mon, there must be some kind of local folklore...Even just a theory. Who's responsible? A group? One, very busy, person?" She pushed, focusing more on the project at hand than him in that moment.

"Nothing so sinister," Dwayne shrugged slowly "Think about it. People come to town, see that shit all is done to stop this kinda stuff and figure 'when in Rome'. High crime rates'll make others more likely to turn to it - our lovely home is the child of mob mentality, and a lack of consequences."

Tara hummed in agreement. It made sense - Dwayne definitely had a good head on his shoulders. Although she was somewhat disappointed with the answer, somewhat bored by it in comparison to the idea of there being one sole culprit with a hidden motive.

"So nobody's ever been questioned in suspicion of any of this?" She continued to question him amidst "clicks" of her camera.

Click. Click. Click.

"Not as far as I know. Police department here is practically non-existent. But I never considered that it might just be down to one person. There's gotta be too many people up there for that, right?"

Click.

"I guess," Tara conceded "Just brings less of a...plot to the whole thing, no?"

Click. Click.

"Plot?" The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in amusement.

"Yeah," she nodded, lowering the camera and turning the brunt of her attention to the Lost Boy "Y'know, like in the detective shows they've always got a specific bad guy at the end, you find out why all of the people died, etcetera."

"Real life don't work that way," he shrugged, eyes scanning across the board indifferently "In any case, Santa Carla would be more of a horror movie than a detective show...Maybe it was vampires."

With a scoff at his teasing, she returned her camera to her bag "Your tinfoil hat tell you that? I'll never live down those stupid comics, will I?"

"Unlikely."

"At least you're honest," she sighed, spending a last moment or two inspecting the board, arms crossed "Where next?"

"Well," he began with a small shrug "We _could_ go to the library, where we'll need to be real quiet and spend god knows how long going through dusty old papers that even the sorry bastards who wrote them didn't care about."

"Very tempting when you put it like that," she remarked dryly "But I sense an 'or'."

" _Or_ we could buy some booze, find a nice scenic spot to drink it in and talk."

"Doesn't seem like that should be a tempting offer considering where I'm standing," she gestured to the faces belonging to the latest group of missing people.

"Still is though, right?"

She had no idea that a smile could be endearing _and_ suggestive at the same time.

"...Yeah," she gave in, laughing at the smugness on his face.

They chit-chatted casually whilst they got the drinks sorted and began wandering down the beach, looking for the 'scenic' spot that Dwayne had promised. In the end, they settled down at the line of trees that formed the beginning of the wood, the only light offered coming from the moon and from through the sliding glass doors that belonged to the hotel a few meters away. Folding her legs beneath her in the sand, she couldn't help but laugh at the curious look he'd fixed her with.

"You know, stare hard enough and you'll burn a hole in my skull," she joked to hide her slight discomfort at being so openly analysed.

"Hey, it'd let me get a read on you," he seemed completely unbothered at being caught staring, posture relaxed as he leaned against a tree trunk.

"Oooh, are you calling me a mystery?" She snickered.

"You move here out of the blue, get Cat's seal of approval within days, and the only thing I know for sure about you is that your ex is kinda a little bitch," he explained "Y'know, besides the fact that you're hot. Which you're very aware of."

Apparently when he'd suggested they find a place to drink and talk, he hadn't been using "talk" as some kind of euphemism. She tried not to let her surprise show, making herself comfortable.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Not bad?" He echoed, amused "Best review I ever got."

"Oh please," she laughed, nudging him with her leg "At least half of the girls in this town would climb you like a tree - you know it, and you love it."

He shrugged at that as if to say "Well I can't argue," and took a swig of his beer before turning to her with a slight mischievous glint in his eye "You count yourself amongst that number?"

"No. That's why I had my tongue down your throat less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Hey, like I said, you're a tough one to read. Don't worry though, it just adds to the whole 'scary but sexy' thing you do."

"That's a relief," she nodded in mock-seriousness, ignoring the burning sensation in her cheeks.

One thing she'd noticed all of the Lost Boys had in common was their bluntness. It had a quality of "hell, we all know it, so I'll go ahead and say it". For the most part it was refreshing - and Dwayne's own personal brand of it happened to be a hell of a lot more charming than, say, David's.

"I scare you?" Her lips stretched into an amused smile "The bad-ass biker dude?"

"Poor choice of words," he admitted, snorting at her description of him "I don't scare easy. You're an intense chick, though."

"And we haven't even screwed yet," she cooed, if only to avoid giving a genuine reaction to his words.

Another laugh - a real one this time, not a quiet chuckle or a suppressed snicker - it was deep, warm and Tara had to fight back a soft smile at the sound of it. This wasn't a date, after all.

"I didn't mean like that," he shook his head "You realise I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen you without some kind of project in your hands? Something to work on? You sell your stuff cheap, too, and they sell slower than you make 'em, so it can't all be about the cash. That leaves genuine passion, which explains the work ethic, but what it doesn't explain is how you got it. There's gotta be a story there."

Tara had always been a fan of aestheticism - although that wasn't to be confused with vanity. She supposed it was the artist in her demanding yet another outlet...or the control freak. There was just something about crafting her image and how people saw her that appealed to her, and so she was meticulous with it. Often compliments on her appearance didn't affect her too much because of this - she saw them as a sign that she was doing her job right. For Dwayne to appear, spend some time observing her and to come out with this - something about herself that she didn't think anybody noticed - was jarring. Not only that, but it wasn't a physical compliment.

New York City went hand-in-hand with cat-calls, which majorly sucked, but was something that most people eventually became desensitised to. One particular consequence of this was that physical compliments started to become less "aww" inducing, and more irritating. Sure, she'd take it in a much better way from Dwayne than from a stranger, but honestly? After a while they stopped meaning much. Maybe if she struggled with her self-esteem it might, but she didn't. Anything like that had always seemed like a waste of time to her - probably one of the most important lessons she'd learned from her mom. In any case, it was rare for Tara to receive compliments based on her actions. Usually people would see her work and comment on her "talent" and how they wished they'd been "born with such a skill". Now _that_ pissed her off. She'd spent years working hard to improve, and they'd waltz in and assume it was a fluke. That sort of dismissiveness was just awful - although it didn't help that they'd then go on to ask her what she was going to do when she needed a "real" career.

Not only had this damned biker "gangster" noticed what nobody else had bothered to look for, and what she prided herself in most, but he admired it _and_ wondered how it came to be. Tara didn't know whether to be touched, or irritated. Things like this made it hard to force detachment.

"You've, uh, you've thought about this a lot," she blinked.

"I got a lot of time on my hands," he shrugged, unfazed at her remark.

Any guy she knew back home would've been embarrassed or offended at the comment, paired with a rush of need to prove his masculinity.

"So the story behind the work ethic," he prompted her again, returning to his original point.

"Not one you want to hear," she grunted stubbornly.

"The term is ' _friends_ with benefits', y'know," he teased "This is how you make friends, doll."

"By boring you to death with the sob story that brought me here?" She asked dubiously.

"I promise not to cry."

Tara sighed, eyes fixed on the waves lapping at the shore and the way the moonlight bounced off of them - if only so she could ignore the open curiosity on his face.

"Sooner you tell me, sooner we can have some real fun, 'cause I ain't giving up with this one."

"If this is your idea of foreplay, you have some really messed up kinks," she muttered before groaning "Fine. But don't tell me you're sorry. Or that you 'can't imagine what I've been through'. _Anything_ in that vein, and I swear I'll leave."

"Good to know," he nodded slowly.

A voice in Tara's head warned her that with this one story, she could very well go from being viewed as "sexy, scary and driven" to "stray puppy in need of a hug, and maybe some charity". If this messed up the odd kind of rapport she'd managed to build with the Lost Boy, she'd kill him for making her tell him in the first place. With that silent promise to herself, she begrudgingly began.

* * *

 **A/N: I wasn't sure whether to include Tara's backstory in this chapter or not, but honestly it would've just been too clunky to tag onto the end, so...next time! Hope you guys liked it.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Skip this if you don't care about explanations about my disappearance! The lighter reason is that I started dating a new guy, and "sorry bb, I can't hang out, I need to write fanfic" isn't really a possibility, but there's also a more serious reason. Honestly, for ages I held off on telling you guys this because I figured if it doesn't interfere, it's not relevant...except lately it has been interfering with updates (blatantly), so I figure it's only fair. Basically I struggle pretty badly with anxiety and depression, and sometimes that makes it very difficult to even keep up with mandatory things, never-mind hobbies like writing, and recently it spurred on a big crisis that I had with my writing and whether I was being realistic in trying to pursue it as a career and spending so much time on it etc. etc...until yesterday, when I had to read a rough novel draft to my class at uni, and I've literally never heard anybody get such positive and glowing feedback as I got, which fully restored my confidence in my writing and that I'm on the right path...hence the update now, because from the reactions of my class and my hard to impress teacher, it now feels like it'd be a waste to not make a huge effort with this stuff. But you guys have played a big role in giving me confidence in my writing. If not for you, the last story probably wouldn't have been completed, never-mind a sequel, so thank you for that.**

* * *

"Back, uh, when I was in high school, my mom got sick...The 'big C'."

There was a time when saying it would make her voice crack and hands shake. Not anymore. The fact that it was something she'd grown used to sent a dull streak of sadness through Tara's chest.

"That was before my little sister was born, so it was just me, mom n' dad. The three goddamn musketeers."

She paused to take a swig of beer, wishing it was something stronger. Remembering the happy times almost hurt more at this point. By now Dwayne had recovered from the shock and was no longer staring at her with wide eyes.

"You don't have to-."

"Not what you were expecting, huh?" She gave him a mirthless smile before sighing and allowing her features to soften "I've started now, may as well finish so you don't try to connect the dots yourself. Putting two and two together and getting five, y'know?"

He bit the inside of his cheek - biting back the apology she'd warned him not to make, Tara suspected. Then with a quiet sigh, he nodded and rested back against the tree trunk behind him.

"It was touch and go for a while. She got told she might not be able to have any more kids, which was a huge blow. I was a teen, and i don't think they even had any plans to give me a sibling, but there's something about the choice being taken away, y'know?" She glanced at him and he nodded silently, something flickering in his eyes but otherwise betraying nothing "Anyway, after pretty extensive treatment she actually started to recover. We all called it a miracle, but I wasn't surprised. I figured nobody so...so loving and generous and _amazing_ could be taken from us like that."

Dwayne's eyebrow twitched as she gave a humourless laugh.

"She went into remission and before long she was back to her old self. Then she got pregnant with Emma, my little sister, and we all got even closer."

Taking a moment to pause, her hand trailed up to tug on the butterfly hanging from her earlobe. The nostalgia was hitting her harder than she expected.

"And then a few years later the cancer came back," there was no disguising the strain present in her voice this time "Only this time it was more aggressive. The treatment less effective. But she stayed in high spirits, y'know? We...We worked on projects together in her bedroom, marathoned movies, played with Emma, and then…"

Trailing off, Tara felt herself involuntarily beginning to tense as her sadness gave way to anger and more bitterness than she cared to admit.

"Then my darling father started to become distant. At first I didn't blame him - he was working to afford mom's treatment...Caring for two daughters and trying to deal with the fact that his wife and high school sweetheart was so sick. I shrugged it off and put my nerdy into my mom, Emma and my friends...and, of course, my art. It was cheaper than therapy."

She took another moment now, not because she was emotional, but to consider how to word the next part. After a few sips of beer and patient silence from Dwayne, she continued.

"Then...I started to notice things," she admitted almost begrudgingly "Emails...working weird hours...hiding with the phone in the hallway...minimising computer pages the second I walked into the room...A shitload of suspicious stuff. I suspected, but it was so far beyond the realms of what I _wanted_ to be real, so I told myself I was being stupid. Paranoid. But y'know, the more shit mounts up, the less you can ignore it. My mom? She was a smart lady. She saw it. I fuckin' saw she saw it. Hell, she probably knew before me. Her life revolved around her family, and it was crumbling. Maybe she blamed herself. She'd been with my dad for so damn long and the only difference she could see was the disease - not the fact that her husband had become an absolute raging douchebag."

The anger was mounting now, and the final sentence came out as a growl. After a deep breath in a (failed) attempt to calm herself down, she went on.

"She started to deteriorate, and when she moved into hospital I stopped talking to him, and he...well, he stopped hiding it as much. Stopped giving a fuck - if he ever did in the first place."

Tara had never told the full story from start to finish before - she'd never had to - but his silent attention egged her on, and whilst it was difficult for her to begin, the words were now spilling from her in such a way that she wans't sure she'd be able to stop if she tried.

"I spent my all of the time I could at the hospital. Went home only when absolutely necessary, and pretty much never bothered with school. My grades went from As to Ds, mom got worse and I spent my nights couch-surfing so I wouldn't have to be around dad and his goddamn mistress. He thought I didn't realise he had her over when I wasn't there. Then...Then mom passed away and everything went to shit."

She still had a lot of difficulty with using the word 'died' in relation to the whole ordeal.

"I ended up dropping out. Hell, if I hadn't they would'a kicked me out, and the only reason I hadn't beforehand was because it would've broken her damn heart. Only even went home at all to make sure Emma was okay. My dad was livid. He'd had it in his head that I'd become a dentist, and outright refused to play any supportive role when I brought up art school. He'd really changed. Mom had always been the more enthusiastic one, but he'd hardly been unsupportive. I think it was Alison. She had it in her head that kids needed a firm hand - never mind the fact that she was barely ten fuckin' years older than me," Tara had to forcefully unclench her jaw to relieve the ache that was beginning to blossom "Anyway, I can hardly afford that shit myself, and a scholarship wasn't on the cards, not being a high school dropout...So I moved out here because I couldn't stomach another minute in New York with those two. Carolina to the rescue, I guess."

"What about your boyfriend?" Dwayne frowned a little "He couldn't help you out?"

"We were over the second my mom and dad fell apart," Tara admitted "If her high school sweetheart could do that to her after two kids, during a fight with cancer...what could this guy I'd met at some party through a friend do to me, given the opportunity? The solution was not to give him one. Or anybody one, really."

"Hence the 'physical only' thing," Dwayne nodded in understanding.

Tara nodded in agreement before giving a shrug "I don't need the distraction, anyway. What I do need is to focus on my art and figure out what I'm doing with my life. Build one that doesn't make me want to take a long walk off a short pier."

"Well...shit," Dwayne raised his beer bottle to her before taking a swig.

"You did ask," she muttered unapologetically, although internally she was already beginning to question how wise she'd been in opening up to the Lost Boy.

Although she'd have regretted it a lot more if he'd gotten soppy on her ass. Luckily, Dwayne proved her right in not being that type.

"I did," he conceded "Gotta admit, wasn't the 'finding myself' bullshit deal I expected."

"Do I give off that vibe?" She asked, mock-offended "I was going for 'struggling artist'."

"How masochistic," he snorted.

"How about sadism?" Tara countered "Your turn to tell me a story. How did you come to Santa Carla?"

"No story to tell," he shrugged easily "Came here with my brothers. Cat joined up later."

"You all came here together? I thought you were all born and raised here...Or at least first met here."

"Nah, we've lived together n' had eachother's backs for what feels like a lifetime," a ghost of a smile crossed his face - an unusually genuine one.

"And Cat lives with all of you too?" She couldn't hide her surprise.

"Very communal," he nodded in amusement "What's up?"

"I just figured she and Paul would do the conventional couple thing and live together. Seems odd, a girl so young moving to a different country to live with four guys she met on vacation. She seems too innocent to be that scandalous."

"What about any of us says 'conventional'?" The Lost Boy snorted "Why the sudden curiosity with Cat?"

"She's...different. Friendly and kinda vulnerable, but also managing to be a closed book, all whilst being my friend," she struggled to find the correct words to describe the Brit "All of you guys just seem so...strange, is all."

"Welcome to Santa Carla," he grinned.

* * *

 _The Lost Cave_

"Stop worrying," Paul rubbed her shoulder as Cat gnawed on the corner of her lip.

"This can only end badly, darling," she warned, leaning into him.

"Not if we have Dwayne there," he argued gently "He'll get in close, stay there and stop her seeing anything she shouldn't."

"Feels sleazy."

"As if he wasn't gonna hit that anyway," David scoffed and they all couldn't help but make noises of agreement.

Cat sighed, which turned into a smile when Paul leaned forward and replaced the tape in the boom box. Soon The Clash blared throughout the cave. It brightened her mood, but it wasn't enough to ease her worry.

"What if she _does_ find something best left unseen?" She couldn't help but voice the concern.

"Well kill her," Marko replied simply, words muffled by the joint between his lips.

"And her aunt? Who distrusts us at best, has a foothold here and knows Tara associates with us?" She frowned sceptically "What, we kill her too? Then the Frogs, I suppose - may as well, while we're at it."

Marko groaned, and Paul muttered an amused "I'm down for that." But David allowed her a quiet sigh.

"She has a point," the platinum blond admitted "Might be time we formulated an emergency escape plan."

The thought was a blow. The cave had become her eccentric little rabbit hole of a home; like a twisted Narnia. Where else could they ever live? Where else would they _want_ to live? Would contacting Jamie still be possible if they moved? And then there was the matter of backlash-free feeding. Such a thing would be inconceivable elsewhere. No, Santa Carla was an absolute haven, and the prospect of leaving drove that point home. Life would get a whole lot more difficult if that had to happen, no matter where they ended up going.

"We've moved around before," Paul reminded her softly, sensing her anxiety "It's really no biggie, babe. A pain in the ass, sure, but we'll all be together and we'll all be fine. We always are."

She relaxed at the reminder of how long they'd all been doing this. Sure, she was hardly still a newbie to their world, but it was reassuring to remember that they were at a 'seasoned pro' status. Allowing herself to relax into Paul's side, what she didn't allow herself to do was voice the next worry that sprang to her mind. It was inevitable that they'd just tell her to stop being stupid...but she didn't want the most important people in her life to lose what had been referred to as 'their best set-up in decades' all because she'd wanted to have a girlfriend.

"Can't discuss jack-shit to do with that til Dwayne gets back anyway," David shrugged lazily "This is a democracy, goddamnit. May as well kick back for now."

"Here, here!" Paul grinned, raising a bottle of Jack with one hand and pulling her closer with the other.

 **A/N: This was going to be longer, with a lot more Dwayne/Tara, but it's hard to follow the heaviness of that with anything without it detracting from it, in my opinion. Plus, I just wanted to get _some_ kind of update out there, on the off chance I have any readers left.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: The response to the last chapter was truly heart-warming. Thank you, guys! The next update will probably be sometime next week, as I'm pretty much busy right up until Friday night from now, which is why I wanted to get this chapter done before that.**

There was definitely something morally askew about going from discussing her late mother, to straddling a biker's lap so she could make out with him. Tara blamed the unconventionality of Santa Carla. Maybe there was something in the water. In any case, knowing her mom, she'd have found the situation amusing. She'd always been a free spirit, after all.

After their 'heart to heart' (if it could be called that), their conversation had drifted towards lighter and more pleasant topic, until Tara had leaned across Dwayne to grab another beer, and he'd chosen that exact moment to give her yet another heated look, eyes skimming over the neckline of her dress. After that the beer had been all but forgotten. God, that man could kiss. The only thing he couldn't seem to do was keep his hands off of her, but Tara certainly didn't mind.

One hand squeezed her hip before sliding up her front. She half expected it to stop at her chest, but instead he only paused, grasping gently before continuing until he was holding her in place by the side of her neck, thumb rubbing her throat and sparking goosebumps all over her skin. His other hand trailed around her body to the small of her back, urging her hips tight against his. All it took was a few rocks of his hips along with a nip to her bottom lip, and Tara was putty in his hands. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a small involuntary noise escaping from the back of her throat. Ordinarily she'd have been embarrassed, but the fire in his eyes suggested there was no need.

"The things I wanna do…" he breathed when they parted, voice little more than a growl.

If it were Julian feeding her a line like that she might've shot back some kind of quip or rolled her eyes, but Dwayne was a far cry from Julian, and she got the feeling it was more than just a line. The way he said it suggested it was a goddamn promise. A fresh wave of heat rushed through her, and her hips continued to seek friction against his even as she spoke.

"Wanna take this to your place?"

Much to her surprise, Dwayne gave a low chuckle "Not unless you wanna give the boys a show...Not that I'd be totally opposed"

"What?" Tara blinked, some of the haze lifting.

"Me, David n' Marko all share a...pretty inhospitable room. Paul and Cat have a room to themselves, but they're also the only ones who'll wanna go near that mattress or those sheets with a ten foot pole."

Tara couldn't help but laugh "Didn't think Cat had it in her to live such a debauched lifestyle."

"Paul's a bad influence," the Lost Boy smirked at her, hands on her back trailing down to her ass "Your place?"

"Can't," she sighed, leaning back a little, fingertips spread out on his chest "Carolina's home and the walls are paper thin."

"Fuck," Dwayne's hands fell away, his brow furrowed.

Tara shared his sentiments. How on earth were the Lost Boys so happy to share each other's space to such an extent? Sure, they had their unique, almost familial, bond but _nobody_ could be that close.

"Wait," Dwayne dragged her from the beginnings of self-pity, a pleased expression on his features.

Following his line of vision, she realised he was looking at the nearby hotel.

"I haven't got much cash…" she murmured doubtfully, shifting from his lap.

"No need," he smirked, following her lead and standing up.

The Lost Boys and their damned smirking would drive her insane one day. Keeping her curiosity to herself, Tara followed him to one of the many sliding glass doors that lined the bottom floor of the hotel, opening out to the beach. The curtains were open, revealing that the room was void of people and any trace of them. It was difficult to hide her astonishment as Dwayne jimmied the handle of the door, at the same time as giving it a hard yank, causing the lock to give way with a rather painful noise. The door slid open.

"What...the fuck?!" She stared at him with wide eyes.

"There's a trick to it," he shrugged casually, but his face was more than a little smug.

Tara chose not to comment. Hell, her expression probably said it all considering the way his smirk widened when he noticed how her gaze lingered on his hands. Instead she followed him quietly into the room, closing the door behind them and then the curtains as Dwayne turned on one of the bedside lamps. The room was nothing glamorous, but not run-down enough to make the whole thing feel too sleazy for her liking. Two twin beds, a floor length mirror, a small dresser, and a door that led to what she assumed was the bathroom. There was only one thing that was a little odd.

"Classy place," she joked, gesturing to the oddly shaped hole in the wall to the right.

Dwayne glanced towards where she'd pointed, pausing in the removal of his jacket. When it seemed to register what he was looking at, he stopped dead, staring at it with that same unreadable expression flitting across his face.

"I was only kidding," she supplied a little awkwardly, wondering if he thought she was genuinely bothered by it.

"Huh?" He blinked, snapping from his thoughts before shaking his head "Nah, s'nothing."

She couldn't help but eye him dubiously. If it was nothing, it wouldn't have changed the entire atmosphere of the room. It was a running theme with the Lost Boys - an innocuous comment or question garnering a bizarre reaction. Although she did remind herself that she really didn't know these people or their lives incredibly well, so she couldn't fairly judge what would be an odd reaction...but for such laidback people, some very weird shit bothered them.

However, she knew one sure fire-way to fix the mood. As Dwayne turned away to double-check under the beds for luggage or any signs of occupants - which she knew wouldn't be there, but appreciated his carefulness - she slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the ground, pooling around her legs. If there was one thing Tara had never been insecure about, it was her body. Judging by the way Dwayne's eyes widened when he turned back around, and the low, dark laugh that followed which just oozed promises, she had no reason to be either. After that, any thought of his brothers and their weird behaviour vanished from her mind.

* * *

It had been worth the wait, that was for damned sure. She couldn't help but wonder how much experience he had. Sure, she was hardly a virgin herself, but christ, the tricks he knew - and the confidence he oozed - suggested there was a rather long list. Practice makes perfect, and all that. What Tara loved almost even more was that he didn't try to hold her afterwards. There was no cuteness or sweet talking, and for that she was incredibly grateful. Of course, it wasn't part of their arrangement, but a spur of the moment bout of clinginess wasn't outside the realms of possibility. She'd doubted it, but she was still glad he'd proven her right. Instead he retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one up before grabbing his jeans and hiking them up his hips. Then he sat on the edge of the unoccupied bed.

Tara watched this process, lazily admiring him as she waited for her heartbeat to calm and the flush to leave her cheeks "About the art project…"

He arched his eyebrows at her, somewhat jokingly "You even think about art during sex? Shit, doll."

"Well when I have such a masterpiece on top of me," she drawled, earning a short chuckle "But really, I didn't explain myself very well earlier...The whole question caught me off guard, I froze up."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me," he shrugged, leaning back a little.

"It's not about you specifically," she shrugged, running a hand through her hair "It's about making sure I'm getting the message across. The last damn thing I want is people thinking I'm exploiting death for some self-involved, pseudo-deep art project, y'know?"

After eyeing her for a moment or two, Dwayne took a long drag from the cigarette before motioning for her to continue.

"When such a large amount of people die in one place, the death...it stops becoming about that specific person and their life. It becomes about the place and statistics. It's not 'oh, John Smith died and it's very tragic', it's 'now 12 people per whatever go missing in Santa Carla on average'. If I died or...or went missing, and it was only made out to be about the place it happened - or worse, only amounted to be a goddamn figure in an equation - I'd be devastated. These people deserve for their deaths to be made about them. Their lives. Their family. Not Santa Carla. Not statistics. Sure, I won't be able to look at all of them, but making a difference for a handful - even if I'm the only one who ever knows their stories - it'll be enough for me."

She finished her explanation feeling more than a little preachy. Dwayne's attention moved from her, to his cigarette, and then back to her again.

"Keep up with that attitude and this place will eat you alive, sweetheart."

If it were any of the other Lost Boys saying it to her, she was sure it would've been intended in a condescending manner...but there was genuinity in both Dwayne's voice and on his face that Tara couldn't bring herself to be offended.

"It really doesn't bother you? All of the death here?" She asked softly, shifting so that her legs hung from the edge of the bed.

"Been here a long time," he replied simply, eyes skimming over her body with a look of satisfaction.

"It's hard to think that any amount of time could take the edge off of murder," she frowned a little, standing up so she could begin retrieving her clothes.

"Santa Carla ain't perfect," he allowed and she snorted, tugging her dress over her head "But I have my brothers - and sister. We have eachother's backs. Me n' mine are fine...if I spend my time worrying about every other sorry bastard, I'm fighting a losing battle."

"And what makes you think it'll always be that way, though? What makes you think David couldn't be the one to be lost next?" She asked, and received a laugh in return "Or Cat?"

The latter, he found less funny. The smile left his face and he frowned at her for what felt like the first time.

"Don't say shit like that," he said a little gruffly, attention going back to the cigarette.

"...Sorry," she said unsurely, surprised at his reaction.

He shook his head with a sigh "Nah. Don't worry 'bout it."

"What I'm getting at…" she sighed reluctantly "Is that on a human level, we can't afford to have that mindset."

This time when Dwayne looked at her, his gaze practically pinned her to the wall, his mind working visibly as though she were a problem to solve. Then his posture relaxed a little.

"You're a good person, Tara."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"Here? It is."

* * *

By the time he returned to the cave, Cat was the only one left awake. Curled up and bundled in her purple tartan, only her eyes and nose were visible as she stared intently at the book in her hands. That was, until she spotted him and she let the fabric fall from her head to pool around her shoulders. Dwayne couldn't help but be reminded of his, probably unwise, reaction to Tara's earlier prodding. David hadn't been wrong when he'd said that they needed to doctor their reactions as much as possible, but he'd already lost one sister back in his old life, and the loss still hurt...the thought of losing the one he'd been given in his new life wasn't something he could be blasé about. Not even hypothetically.

"Have fun?" Cat smirked at him, voice soft with tiredness.

"A gentleman never kiss and tells," he mirrored her smirk, slumping down onto the sofa beside her.

"What about shags and tells?" She put her book down with a snicker.

"Thought you'd be asleep," he deflected, ruffling a hand through his hair "S'late."

"Wanted to make sure you were okay...Just in case Paul was right to be a little paranoid about her and her intentions," she admitted somewhat reluctantly, biting her lip "I'm guessing she didn't find anything important?"

"Didn't look. We got...sidetracked," he couldn't keep the smug tone from his voice.

Cat was visibly relieved at that. When she got worried like this she always looked a lot younger. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she wasn't as hardened to this life as them, wasn't as old - didn't feel quite as untouchable. It was probably a good thing. They needed somebody to keep them grounded.

"I don't think there's any ulterior motive...any kinda secret plan to bust us," he admitted, losing the bravado and patting her shoulder "Honestly? She just seems like a girl with intentions that are way too good for this place, and a hope that she can make some kinda difference for the better."

"She's in the wrong place then," Cat said bluntly, but without a lot of the malice or mocking that he'd expect from one of his brothers.

If anything, she sounded a little sad. Dwayne understood. They had to do what they had to do to stay alive, and it was pointless feeling any kind of guilt or self-loathing for that. It would be like a lion pitying a zebra. They also both adored Santa Carla, and the way it suited all of their needs. But they both also knew that the path this newcomer was on would only end in dissatisfaction for her, at absolute best. All because of good intentions. The chick would be better off if her borderline icy exterior extended right down to her core, but that didn't appear to be the case. It was a shame, as well as a sad reality, and Dwayne was pleased that he wasn't the only one amongst the Lost Boys to see it. His brothers would probably just scoff and sneer - not that he blamed them. It sure as hell took less of a toll than caring overmuch. He would've also been very surprised if the whole thing wasn't digging up some rather unpleasant memories for their newest family member.

"You doin' okay?" He asked.

"The, uh...the mum thing is still hard," she shrugged as if to play off her grief "I keep just having these random sobbing fits. It's no big deal - I'm fine five minutes after - but they're triggered by the smallest things...Puts a little bit of a downer on the night."

"Not what I meant, Cat," he knew she knew it, too.

Fixing him with an unamused look, Cat tilted her head back and exhaled slowly "Could do without her dragging it all up, I'll admit. It was a different life. I prefer not to think of it. I'll be a lot better when she gets this little project of hers over and done with."

"She won't find anything on you," he reassured "I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you," she sighed tiredly, but didn't look convinced.

Before he could question it, however, she rose, bent to give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before bidding him a "good morning", retreating to the alcove, and no doubt the comfort of Paul's presence. In potentially turbulent times like these, the love and caring the couple had for each other really shone through. Sometimes it was easy to forget it wasn't all just sex, enabling and light-hearted banter between the two - mostly because he was an outsider looking in. Their most intimate moments would hardly be staged for the rest of them to see. Sure they were all close, but some things had to be private. He was glad that they'd found one another - and managed to get past their disastrous beginnings. It was heartwarming to witness, when they weren't being completely sickening...although that was something he'd never admit aloud.

Dwayne looked around the empty cave tiredly. He had a hell of a job on his hands, that was for sure...but he couldn't afford to fail, so he knew he wouldn't. And if he'd continue to have the sex as a reward, he could happily live with that.

 **A/N: For anybody who hasn't read the Cat/Paul story, it's briefly mentioned there that Dwayne had a sister when he was human, and that she died young. That's going to be touched upon more in this, because I didn't forget about it! There's also another, pretty blatant, reference to that story in here, just because I couldn't resist. Sorry if you guys expected something a little more M-rated, but I'm pretty uncomfortable writing smut 99% of the time, and I don't currently possess enough alcohol in my flat to change that for now.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: As always, thank you so much to the reviewers!**

* * *

Despite Tara's reservations, sleeping with Dwayne seemed to uncomplicate matters gloriously. With the underlying tension that seemed to permeate their every interaction now gone, it left room for a good camaraderie and, frankly, great sex. Furthermore, with her relationship with one Lost Boy improving, the rest seemed to follow...more or less.

Whatever weird atmosphere she may have perceived between herself and Cat vanished, and Marko was perfectly amiable towards her. That only left David and Paul. David didn't bother her too much at all - sure he was prickly and borderline antagonistic at the best of times, but she'd come to realise that this was just how he was. Affection (or his version of it, at least) was strictly reserved for his fellow Lost Boys. Even then she got the feeling that this would be rare, too.

Paul, however? His behaviour confused her. It wasn't that he shared David's brand of iciness; he talked to her when necessary...but _only_ when necessary, and otherwise seemed to avoid her. Tara wouldn't have thought much of it, if not for the odd looks that he continued to send her way when she and Cat were hanging out with even the slightest degree of separation from the main group. It was almost like clockwork. He'd turn his head towards them and allow his eyes to wander over his girlfriend in a way that Tara would write off as attraction if not for the way his brow furrowed. Then the look would turn to her and lose any semblance of warmth, his lips thinning a little. She'd been stunned the first time she identified it as distrust. What kind of threat could she possibly pose to the Lost Girl? She was beginning to suspect that her friend's beloved partner was that one specific brand of 'possessive douchebag boyfriend'. It fit with Cat's initial reluctance to hang out with anybody besides the bikers, after all.

Cat herself didn't seem bothered by Paul's behaviour, returning whatever looks he shot their way with winks or blown kisses, to which his expression would lighten and he'd look away. Tara couldn't decide if the girl's lack of concern to this behaviour should worry her more or less. Each time it happened, Carolina's theory on the amounts that the Brit might have given up for her American lover sprang back to mind, a little less romantic and more chilling every time. Whenever these thoughts arose, however, she dutifully reminded herself that it was none of her business. Or did her best, anyway. She'd keep her mouth shut until Cat herself came to her - if there even was a problem. In any case, the girl had three biker brothers looking out for her...although that raised the question of where the boys' loyalties lay first and foremost - with Cat, or Paul?

The girl seemed happy enough, and she'd witnessed no alarming interactions between the couple. She was worrying over nothing. Still, none of this explained why Paul didn't seem to trust her.

* * *

One of the many ways Dwayne surprised Tara was how pleasant it was to have him as a research companion. Or maybe it was just the novelty of not going through the process alone, for a change. Truly assimilated by Santa Carla, he seemed largely unfazed by the research she was doing, and when he wasn't showing interest in her resources, he simply read. He also, however, served as a good guide to the town - not that she wouldn't have been able to figure it out herself, but having him around sped up the process immensely. Santa Carla's library had been a veritable treasure trove - although perhaps not in the way of fiction, especially compared to the vast libraries she was used to hanging out in back in New York, when she was simply avoiding home - but its archives in the way of newspapers and documentation deemed insignificant enough to be made public was plentiful and in great condition. Probably because few ever bothered with any of it, considering it had the boardwalk, beach and all of the attractions that went with them as competition.

Looking up from the stack in front of her, she watched in open admiration as Dwayne leisurely lifted two more heavy boxes with ease, placing them on the table they'd claimed along with the first. That was another perk of the Lost Boy's companionship. He winked in return to her blatant staring and Tara smirked down at the papers before her, unabashed.

"You're going a ways back," he commented, occupying the seat in front of her.

"Like I said, dunno what I'm actually gonna do yet," she shrugged "I always tackle big projects like this - more you absorb, more likely you are to spit out something good...I hope."

Her eyes were beginning to burn with the effort of trawling through pages upon pages of missing person's reports from the local paper - she'd even stuck bright neon green post-its on the pages she intended to photocopy before leaving for the night. Soon her wages would be entirely spent at the library, she suspected. Hell, the paper had a whole damned, very clinical, section dedicated to the topic.

"Absorbed much so far?" he asked, eyes grazing over the box that spanned no less than five years beforehand, but no more than ten as he shrugged off his jacket "Don't wanna bite off more than you can chew. You look tired."

The image of a shirtless man in a library was amusing, but she didn't comment. What she did notice was the complete lack of any evidence of their "extracurricular activities". Since their arrangement had started up, she had a regular need to cover all manner of bruises, scratches, nips and other souvenirs from their time together - all of which she'd very much enjoyed acquiring, of course. However, she'd also given as good as she got (or at least, she hoped she did...judging by his reactions, she felt safe in that assumption) and she was stunned to see how quickly Dwayne seemed to heal. What probably helped was the fact that biting was apparently a huge turn-off to him - something that had stunned Tara. Admittedly, neither of them were quite sadomasochist material, but right up until her teeth had absent-mindedly grazed the skin of his shoulder one night in the midst of everything, she'd been led to believe that it would be his exact kind of thing. She'd been wrong. Abruptly, the Lost Boy had pulled back and asked her gently, but in no uncertain terms, to never bite him. It was perhaps the most serious she'd ever seen him, but she'd shrugged it off. If it wasn't his thing, it wasn't his thing, and for the most part he'd kept his teeth to himself too.

"I want to say no," she shrugged, dismissing the thoughts "But I always think that until I strike gold - and I'm fine. I'll just need to grab a coffee before I meet up with Cat."

"Ah, your little slumber party, I forgot?" he snickered a little, leaning back in his chair "I feel a little replaced, doll."

"What can I say, I felt like swapping hotdogs for tacos," she deadpanned, closing the paper in front of her and sighing at the next one - it was getting depressing, that was for damn sure.

Her joke was rewarded with a proper laugh, his head falling back a little, teeth bared. The corners of her lips quirked upwards in return. The librarian was less amused, shooting them an annoyed look but saying nothing, seeing as they were the only ones there this late on a Friday evening.

"The little cockblock," Dwayne mock-grumbled, underlying affection lacing his tone.

Tara snickered, shaking her head, and for a good chunk of time they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Other than the curiosity flaring in the back of her mind once again at Dwayne and Cat's seemingly close "sibling" bond, she found herself incredibly pleased with the biker. If Julian had been in Dwayne's shoes - which he had been a few times back in the day, when she'd had plans with girlfriends all night and an art project to engross herself in all day - he'd grumble and bitch endlessly, trying to persuade her to take a break from the hobby in order to spend time with him instead. The fact that Dwayne didn't mind was another mark for him in her book.

Then Tara blanched a little at her line of thought. Julian had been her boyfriend, Dwayne most definitely was not. It wouldn't do to forget that - not even a little, and no matter how sleep deprived.

With her little lapse in thinking signalling it was probably time to stop, she sighed and began to gather all of the papers that had been marked with a post-it before looking to Dwayne "Can you be a star and take those two boxes back for me?" she asked, giving her best attempt at an endearing smile.

Despite the time they'd spent there, she'd only managed to get through one box so far. She probably wouldn't even need the other ones, but she wanted to get a good range of research - it wouldn't do to only look into people from one time-frame, or one demographic.

"Always using me for my body," he drawled, earning a scandalised look from the librarian.

Unable to hide her mirth at just how laid-back she was, Tara gave him a small smile before bundling the papers into her arms and heading towards the photocopier.

* * *

The second Dwayne was safely hidden amongst the archive shelves, he tore into the box that had been his biggest cause of anxiety ever since Tara asked him to pull it out for her. The papers in here would cover the timespan during which Cat joined the family, and it had taken every ounce of his self control to act cool knowing that a whole world of shit was sitting inconspicuously between himself and the mortal girl.

He quickly rifled through the papers, trying to do the math as he went and cursing how little they bothered recalling exact years and dates. It had been around New Year when she'd joined, he knew that much...but how long would it have taken for her picture to hit the paper? And how many damn years ago had it been? Six? Seven? He couldn't simply take a load of them to cover his ass, it'd arouse too much suspicion - he'd noticed as Tara worked that there were very few time-gaps in here, if any. If the police force were half as efficient as the papers, he and his brothers would've had a problem on their hands a long time ago.

Then a small article on a page of one of the papers caught his eyes - it was a petty piece, but it had shaken the dust from an old memory.

 **Blood on the Boardwalk?** The headline read, at which he had to hold back an audible snort, but the body of the text went on to explain how the Big Dipper had been opened one morning, only for blood to inexplicably be found on the tracks. It wasn't a deadly amount, and therefore not enough to be linked to the disappearances or for the authorities to be involved - although he wondered if they would have been otherwise, useless as they were - the article was simply speculating how it could've gotten there, suggesting that the rollercoaster had been the executioner of some poor rodent, going on to ramble about animal rights activists and supposed safety issues. It must've been a damn slow news week in Santa Carla. He couldn't help but be amused at the fact that these people had a group of vampires living amongst them and happily taking their pick of the crowd, whilst they worried about how safe a roller-coaster might be. If only they knew.

In any case, Dwayne remembered the real source of the blood from the tracks. That had been the night where Cat and Paul had slipped whilst fucking around on the tracks, back when Cat had been an unsuspecting mortal. The blood they'd found belonged to his sister, caused by drunken clumsiness. This meant that her missing person's notice couldn't be far. Once he'd honed in on his target, it couldn't have taken more than a minute for him to find the offending page - although it did take him a moment to even realise he was looking at Cat when he saw the photo.

The last time he'd felt so relieved was when it had become clear that the Emerson's had no intentions of returning. He ripped the offending page out - still leaving plenty of other pages in the issue for Tara to rifle through to her heart's content, therefore avoiding suspicion - and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Mission accomplished. He'd return home a hero. As he returned the boxes to their rightful places, he was powerless against the smile on his face. For a while it had really looked like they might be in trouble. Of course, that wasn't to say that finding the evidence would've been their only hope of survival - there were always more extreme measures that could've been taken, in the worst case scenario. Hell, murder was their go-to solution. It just wouldn't have been a good one in this situation.

Tara's aunt was as unlikely to take her disappearance lying down as Cat's biological brother had been, and she didn't have an ocean's worth of distance between herself and Santa Carla. Not only that...but lately Dwayne found himself occasionally hoping that this wouldn't end in bloodshed. Killing was easy when it was a Surf Nazi douchebag, or really just anybody they didn't know. It wasn't that Tara was a good person (from what he'd seen she was, but they'd undoubtedly drained a lot of good people, so that was no basis for avoiding their usual tactics), and it wasn't even the fact that he'd been screwing her. As a rule, before now they'd always disposed of their one night stands immediately after. It wouldn't do to have girls on the boardwalk with expectations or notions of getting clingy.

In all honesty, he couldn't quite put his finger on why. Maybe it was the clear value of the relationship the girl had with his sister. Cat still wasn't one hundred percent her old self since finding out about her mom, but it was early days, and obvious to him if nobody else that Tara was helping. That must've been it. The best case scenario for this would be the girl getting into some kind of dead-end art profession and leaving town to pursue it, like countless struggling artists before her. It was clear she couldn't quite come to terms with Santa Carla's morbid charm just by watching her rifle through the missing person's listings, he couldn't see her hanging around long term. Hopefully everything would be smooth until that day.

* * *

They ended up grabbing some burgers from a food truck after leaving the library. With Dwayne put on "sleuth duty", his siblings would be feeding without him that night and so he knew it would be pointless trying to seek them out just yet. As far as Tara knew, their nocturnal lifestyle was due to a number of factors, all of which the Lost Boys had devised in the cave one evening. Their story was that, due to their unsavoury reputation in this town, they had to travel to the next town over on a daily basis to easily get work doing odd jobs for cash. They'd return, nap, and then spend the night enjoying their home while they could, before disappearing again to grab a little more sleep before repeating the process. The girl had bought it without question, but then again why wouldn't she?

Dwayne found himself regretting underestimating how observant she was, though, when she next spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?" the uncharacteristic reluctance in her voice put him on edge, but he schooled his features carefully before giving a careless shrug.

He then took a bite of his burger so that if he had to come up with a cover story to whatever she was about to ask, the chewing would buy him a little time.

"It's just...when I told you about my mom...you reacted really well. No 'I'm sorry' bullshit, no stupid, obvious statements like 'that must've been tough', y'know?" she continued, avoiding looking at him as they sat on the bench "In my experience, the only people who handle a revelation like that so well are people who've been through something similar."

It hadn't been anything he'd expected, but it didn't mean he was relieved.

"Never really had much of a relationship with my folks," he responded simply, putting all of his effort into not clenching his jaw.

"But you've lost somebody."

"Hasn't everybody?"

Tara gave him an unamused look, and he found himself biting the inside of his cheek, stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he said nothing or lied, he risked losing her trust and therefore access to her whilst she completed her research. He saw the treatment the last sorry bastard who pissed her off got. Sure, he'd found what was probably the main piece of incriminating evidence, but that didn't mean he wouldn't still need to keep an eye on her...However being honest would mean talking about things he'd rather not, and not only that, but giving answers that would raise far too many questions and probably blowing his, and by extension his siblings', cover.

"Cat ain't the only sister I ever had," he admitted begrudgingly, his food suddenly far less appetising "I had another one once. A biological one. She, uh, she passed away when I was a kid."

It was only half a lie. He hadn't been a kid. In fact, he'd looked much the same, but he hadn't been alive for quite so many years back then. It had been around a year or so before he'd found Max...and, of course, gained his first new sibling in David.

"Fuck," Tara sighed, having the grace to look a little guilty "How?"

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, tone leaving no room for argument.

If he answered that one, there was no way in hell she'd believe him...and if she did, it wouldn't be good. Tara said nothing, apparently happy to drop the subject, and Dwayne mentally congratulated himself for getting out of the situation with such relative ease.

However, he was also completely oblivious to the mix of hurt, confusion and annoyance swirling in Tara's chest.

 **A/N: A little bit all over the place, but yes. I'm always a little wary in giving the boys proper backstories, but it's unavoidable really. Honestly so much drama goes down in this damn story that I had to make a flowchart to pin to my wall, just so I knew what order it needed to happen in so I knew what to write next - but I'm feeling very excited about working on this now. Unfortunately, this is dampened by the fact that I have six deadlines in the next two or so months, so updates may be a little slow, but I'm using this as a reprieve from work when I need a break, so hopefully it won't be too delayed...and I'll admit that I work on drafts during my more useless lectures :')**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Just from an issue that was raised recently, I'd like to make something very clear – I will never delete a review, negative or otherwise, that is** _ **not left by a guest**_ **, and I don't appreciate the suggestion that I would delete a review solely because it's of a negative nature. When it** _ **is**_ **left anonymously, however, I become frustrated because I'm then given no opportunity or ability to defend/justify myself or my reasoning behind the decisions or elements that are being criticised and I find that rather unfair. I'm entitled to my say just as much as the next person - give me a chance to have mine, and I'll extend the same courtesy. Yes, there's the option to respond via author's note, but when I've witnessed authors doing so in the past it has a tendency to come off as a rant or a bid for pity. I also don't want to saddle you all with a 1k word long A/N at the end of a chapter on the off-chance that the relevant people might see it** **. I do understand that some people might not like leaving negative reviews with their account for fear of getting a whirlwind of abuse in return, but I don't do that.**

 **I'll also say that I have no hard feelings towards anybody for their opinions on my stories because frankly that would be ridiculous. I wouldn't be doing a creative writing degree, or posting works online, if I couldn't take criticism and it's something that every aspiring artist has to be able to handle; I'm just putting this note here because I don't want any readers to be under the impression that I only keep positive reviews and cull the rest.**

* * *

It was strange, being in a normal home. Since moving to Santa Carla, the only conventional living space Cat had set foot in belonged to hotels. Obviously, it wasn't quite the same. It didn't bother her, of course. She loved the cave and as a mortal, the sheer idea of conventionality had horrified her. Now her life was anything but.

Paul hadn't wanted her to accept the invitation – he still didn't trust Tara, and it was becoming clear Tara knew something was up. She'd have been blind not to; he watched her like a hawk and never seemed to completely relax with her around. It only made sense that she made less and less of an effort to interact with him these days, but Paul seemed just fine with that. They were a big enough group for it to not be too awkward on the occasions when Tara joined them, and she mainly stuck with Cat, Dwayne and Marko. The old days when Cat had first joined were a touchy subject for her boyfriend, even when one of their own brought them up, so having an "outsider" come in and threaten to do so clearly didn't sit well with him at all. The guilt still lingered, and she suspected that his issue stemmed more from this than any real slight on Tara's behalf. The sooner she finished this damn project of hers, the better.

Of course, Cat didn't relish in it all being dragged up again. The nightmares were making a slow return, fuelled by the remnant of guilt over what had happened to her mother

Cat wasn't so sure that the girl couldn't be trusted. It seemed that her visits to the Frog brothers' comic shop had all but stopped after the lies they'd fed her ("'Cause she knows we clocked her there," Paul insisted when Cat pointed this out), she never asked questions that Cat herself wouldn't have asked in her position – hell, Cat probably had asked some of the same questions, back before she knew she was hanging out with a group of vampires – and, most importantly, Dwayne vouched for her ("'Cause he's thinking with his dick," was Paul's answer to that, and she laughed at the fact that he failed to see the irony in this statement). Back in the day, she'd have liked to have claimed that she was very good at sensing when she was being lied to…but the events which led to her living in Santa Carla had told her otherwise. No, Cat was sure that if Tara was pulling some kind of double-agent shit, it would be clear by now, her digging into the past aside. Still, it was clear that this was an issue that divided them almost completely down the middle. Dwayne and Cat trusted her as much as they could, considering their secret, David and Paul did not, and Marko seemed content to simply wait and see what happened. Cat couldn't fault that approach.

"How come I wasn't met with so much distrust?" she'd frowned one evening as they returned to the cave "I know there was our 'bond', but that doesn't mean I was automatically a good person."

Her brothers had laughed at her as though the question was ridiculous, and even Paul had done a poor job as disguising his snickers in the face of her indignation. Had she really been _that_ clueless? Thinking back on it, she realised with an odd mix of amusement and discomfort that, well, yes. She had been.

In any case, she'd accepted the invitation for a sleepover, driving her own rarely-used bike to The Hideout with the deal that if she wasn't back by 5am, the boys had permission to come and retrieve her. If by some chance, Tara _was_ a danger, she was still mortal. Cat may have been small, but she still remembered the self-defence tricks her brother had taught her as a mortal, along with what she'd subsequently learned from frequent sparring matches with her new brothers. Combined with the strength, flight, and speed her vampirism gave her, she was sure she'd be safe. Paul's argument to that had been that a face full of holy water only required the element of surprise, but she'd been invited there, so holy water couldn't be a threat. She was sure his worries were unfounded. She could probably take Tara in a fair fight if it came to that. Unless the Frog brothers were hiding in a closet somewhere, she'd be fine.

Her main worry was that their cover story for not being around during the day was paper thin, and Cat prayed that Tara never found a reason to pry into it. To lie well one must keep as close to the truth as possible, but there wasn't really anything "close to the truth" that could explain their aversion to sunlight. The thing was, despite everything - the risks, the suspicion, the constant need to lie and consider everything she said before saying it…she liked the girl. She was initially reserved, but not in the same way that Cat was. Cat was reserved because people made her nervous. Back when she was mortal, her method had been to avoid conflict, no matter how minor, at all costs. Flight over fight. It was how she'd endured Bryana's treatment for so long. Now people still made her nervous, but because of the secrets she had to keep, not because of potential conflict. Especially because the secret didn't only belong to her, but those most important to her. By that logic, Tara should have terrified her. The mortal, however, was reserved more out of choice than anything else. She observed before she got involved. A smart move, if nothing else. In hindsight, she supposed it made sense that this might spur on some distrust from the Lost Boys, but Cat understood it. Caution wasn't always the product of unsavoury intentions.

* * *

Even as Tara watched Cat slowly take in her bedroom with a thoughtful look on her face, she fought the embarrassment brewing inside her over the night's earlier events. Part of her flushed hotly at the fact that she'd been dumb enough to ask Dwayne about his late sister. It had been an unusually impulsive moment. A lapse in judgement. They were _fuck buddies_ , why should he share such information with her? Her embarrassment, however, was rivalled by a cocktail of hurt and bitterness. She'd taken a rare leap of faith that night on the beach, telling him all about her mom, dad, Alison and everything in-between. Then, when the time came for him to return the favour, he'd thrown it all back in her face without a second thought…but then, once again, this turned to doubt. Could the concept of "returning the favour" really be applied when discussing the death of a loved one? If it had been her sibling and not her mom, would she have been as willing to discuss it? The thought alone had her hand flying to the butterfly hanging from her earlobe.

But there was no denying the feeling akin to betrayal that Dwayne's decision had wrought. Were they close enough for her to validly consider it a betrayal? Perhaps not, but hadn't he expressed interest in friendship, as well as physical diversions? Most of all, she couldn't pretend that the small amount of anger wasn't directed at herself for even caring at all. Had the last few years taught her nothing?

She was grateful that Cat had accepted her invitation of a sleepover, and even more so that she did so with the least amount of hesitation that she'd seen so far. The idea had come about when Cat had told her about the vinyl her mom had gifted her, lamenting at the fact that she didn't have a record player at her place with the boys. Carolina, however, did. Their friendship was what had begun Tara's association with the Lost Boys, but after her arrangement with Dwayne started up, her one-on-one time with Cat had dwindled. It would be nice to dedicate some time to it. Tara missed spending time with her. It also helped that if Cat hadn't been there, she suspected she would've spent the night brooding over her encounter with Dwayne. Instead, she spent it on the living room floor eating take-out, watching movies and giggling about anything and everything.

It was only when they moved to Tara's bedroom for the night that the night took a more sober turn.

"She's adorable," Cat commented with a soft smile, peering at a framed photo of Tara with Emma – the only one she kept on display, besides one with her, her mom and Carolina "You must miss her."

"I do," Tara agreed "She's probably better off, though. There'll be a lot less yelling and tension back home without me there, y'know? Kid that young shouldn't be around it – especially one as sensitive as her."

"That's good of you. Big," the Lost Girl murmured thoughtfully, straightening up and slowly spinning in a full circle, taking in the room "I bet she misses you, though."

"Have you got any younger siblings?" Tara asked, occupying the desk chair so that Cat could perch on the end of the bed.

"Nah, just my older brother…back home I used to babysit my cousins' kids, though," her smile turned wistful "They loved me, I adored them. There was one, Caleb, he just…took a shine to me, right from when he was a baby. One day his mum told him she loved him, he smiled up at her and proclaimed 'and I love Catriona!'…She was cagey with me for a week afterwards."

It had never even occurred to Tara that "Cat" would be short for something, but she liked it.

"They must visit a lot."

She'd spoken with the goal of lightening the atmosphere, but Cat's answer wasn't what she'd anticipated "Erm, no, actually."

"What?" Tara frowned, straightening up a little "Never?"

Cat stood, moving to the opposite side of the room to inspect the artwork pinned to the wall. She answered with her back turned.

"My brother did. Once, not long after I got here."

"…And that's it?" she blinked, knowing she was probably being rude, but unable to hide her surprise.

"They didn't approve of Paul – or, rather, my relationship _with_ Paul," she shrugged "I haven't communicated with any of them – bar Jamie – since I got here."

Tara was speechless. She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Half of her was dying to ask for more information, but the other half wasn't sure she even wanted to hear the answers. Knowing that Cat had likely sacrificed higher education to come here was one thing, but her _family_? If the most eligible bachelor in the world had asked her to give up just one of those things, Tara would've laughed in his face – even if he was a king, rock star, or billionaire. Cat had given it all up, for an entirely average biker. Did she not realise how lucky she was? Not only to have had a chance at higher education, but for _free_ , as it was in Britain. Not only that, but a loving and supportive family. Loathe as she was to admit it, Tara felt some of the admiration she had for the girl slip away. Sure, Paul and Cat seemed to get along better than Tara had with, say, Julian, but there were plenty of fish in the sea. To throw everything away for what could've only been a vacation fling when the decision was made? Tara bit down on the inside of her cheek.

Respect or admiration weren't vital in friendships. Well, not _total_ respect or admiration – that would probably be unhealthy. For Tara, her relationship with most friends back home had been on a basis of simply enjoying their company, rather than liking them as people…but she'd enjoyed that not being the case with Cat, or even Dwayne for that matter. Part of her knew she was being harsh, but they'd both gone down in her estimation in one night. It was disappointing.

Although…it did explain some things. How she'd been informed of the death of her mother via letter. How there'd not even been a slight consideration of her attendance at the funeral, from what Tara had seen. What it also explained was the girl's deep attachment to the Lost Boys. How much face would she lose if she'd gone through all that, only to decide she really didn't like them all that much in the end? This also called something else into question. Just how genuine was their seemingly stellar relationship? Was she truly so attached to her "brothers" and boyfriend, or was it simply because she felt like she had no choice but to be? Who else did she have in the States, after all?

It also did nothing but spur on her suspicions about Paul. What self-respecting man would allow his girlfriend to give up so much, solely for him? Tara would like to think that if they truly loved each-other so much, Paul would have convinced Cat to go back home where she had a loving family and a future that didn't revolve around motorcycles, dead end jobs and substance abuse. Sure, it was fine and cool for now whilst they were in their twenties, but what about when they hit thirty? Or forty? The Lost Boys would look less cool and more of a joke if they still tried to maintain their current lifestyle at such an age. Her brow furrowed. It had seemed that Cat had far too much of a good head on her shoulders to have been in a situation like this…but then again, as she'd learned from her conversation with Dwayne, what did she really know about these people? Did partying together and screwing really lay the foundation for a friendship?

It was only when Cat turned to her, commenting on one of the paintings on the wall with an endearing smile, that Tara felt bad. Who was she to judge? Hadn't her friendships back in New York been founded on more or less the same thing? She did her best to reason with herself that Cat's decisions were really none of her business, but she couldn't quite eradicate how annoyed she was at the unfairness of the situation. Tara had been a devoted, loyal and loving daughter, and her mom had been ripped away regardless. Cat, however, up until recently had been in possession of a perfectly healthy mom, and had chosen to leave her family to chase a Lost Boy, regardless.

Suddenly she wasn't quite so sure that she was pleased Cat had accepted her invitation after all. Internally sighing, she moved towards her VHS collection to grab some movies for them to watch, mainly because it gave her an excuse to hide her troubled expression. Her business or otherwise, she had a feeling it wouldn't be easy to stop this from affecting how she viewed the girl, and her boyfriend by extension. Hell, she'd be surprised if any of the Lost Boys held any issue with it. She understood that they weren't exactly of the highest moral standing, but this? It all seemed a bit much. Maybe the collective opinion towards them on the boardwalk – the one typically held by the middle-aged residents who weren't impressed by their "badass" personas – wasn't entirely wrong after all.

* * *

 **A/N: Not exactly action filled, but necessary. Stuff really starts to heat up after this - or at least it should if my plan works out.** **Deadlines are well and truly breathing down my neck, so either procrastination will make updates more frequent, or completely the opposite.**

 **Once this story is finished (which won't be for a long while yet) other than the occasional one-shot for Eternal and hopefully wrapping up the David/OC mini-story that I began forever ago, I can't see myself writing another full-length fic for this fandom – there's really only so much you can do for this movie, especially considering the Lost Boys only really get about 30mins of screen-time and barely any lines, bar David, and I feel like if I did it could just end up being a re-hash of things I've already written. That is, unless some kind of golden idea for a Marko/OC one strikes me, but it wouldn't take place in this "universe" with all of these OCs because having 3/4** **of them paired off in one story feels ridiculous…if I decide to give Tara and Dwayne a happy ending, that is. I haven't made up my mind on that yet.**

 **So far in terms of other fandoms, I'm leaning towards Skyrim and Dragon Age. Maybe Marvel because, admittedly, I'm Loki trash.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: 2 of 6 deadlines down! I've gotten good grades so far, so I figured I'm allowed some time to dedicate to writing things I actually enjoy writing. Right now my dilemma with this story is that I know exactly what needs to happen...but I just have no idea how to write it - and it all needs to happen in a very specific order otherwise everything will go to shit, so no pressure. As usual, thank you guys so much for both your feedback and your patience! Not much Tara/Dwayne in this one, but that will change in the next chapter, if all goes to plan...And I wanted some proper Cat/Tara bonding. I'm also trying to come up with some more cute one-shot ideas for Eternal.**

Even as they sat in silence, attention fixed on _Dawn of the Dead,_ Tara's mind was racing. After Cat's revelations, she'd come to two possible conclusions.

The girl was far less intelligent than she seemed.

Tara's reservations about Paul had been more well-founded than she'd ever dreamt.

Ordinarily, she'd have thought the second possibility absurd - she wasn't sure she'd ever seen any kind of interaction between the couple that wasn't positive, and the Lost Boys loved to give the couple flack for being sickening. Just because he didn't seem to like her didn't necessarily mean he was inherently bad...and yet. Tara had been a rather morbid teenager, not surprising considering she'd grown up to develop an affinity for anything and everything paranormal. Because of this, for around a year or so, one of her research binges had revolved around true crime. Murderers, abusers, serial killers, and the like. After reading enough books and watching enough documentaries, it didn't take a detective to notice patterns of behaviour in the perpetrators. Now one whirled around her head like a goddamn propellor blade. Almost unfailingly, a recurring theme in any man with unsavoury towards a woman he was in a romantic relationship with was to isolate her from her family and friends. Anybody who might alter his influence in her life. Had Paul found a way to convince Cat to choose him over her family and life back home? Had he manipulated her? And if so, now that he had...was she safe with him?

She shot a glance towards Cat, as though expecting her to know exactly what she was wondering and immediately begin screaming at her for it. The Lost Girl, however, continued to nibble on a piece of candy, engrossed in the movie. Safe in the knowledge that she was unnoticed, Tara allowed her eyes to skim over any piece of bare skin that was exposed - feeling a little lecherous in doing so. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. Bruises? Welts? Scars? Scratches? Burns, even? Even with her imagination running rampant, she couldn't quite picture Paul raising a hand to Cat. The unmarried skin Tara's inspections were met with only seemed to reinforce this. So why couldn't she resign herself to the fact that Cat had made such an awful decision? After the events of the last few years, she seldom struggled to see the worst in people. Eventually, temptation overcame logic.

"Hey, Cat?" She asked as conversationally as she could.

"Hmm?" Cat replied, not tearing her eyes from the screen.

"Are you and Paul doing okay?" She asked reluctantly.

"Of course, why?" Cat frowned as though she'd asked her whether the sky was blue.

"No reason. It's just...uh...you could tell me. If you weren't," she said softly, carefully monitoring her reaction.

"Uh...I see. Well, thank you?" She appeared genuinely baffled.

Until she faltered. For a split second, Tara genuinely thought she'd struck gold. Right up until Cat spoke.

"...Are you and Dwayne alright?"

Oh god. Did she think that this was all some kind of clumsy attempt to discuss herself and Dwayne? Shit, since when had there even been a 'herself and Dwayne'?! Cat had turned towards her now, legs tucked beneath her.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a complicated, blurry line you two are walking," she shrugged "God knows it would fuck with my head...and you don't seem quite yourself tonight. Just thought I'd check."

"It's nothing like that," Tara muttered, shaking her head "Don't get me wrong, he's great - one of the few people I can hang out with for extended periods of time without wanting to throttle - but you're in that group, too."

Cat pressed a hand to her chest in an exaggerated show of flattery.

"But I'm glad with how things are. Trust me, I'm not the kind of girl who falls in love with any guy she sleeps with," she finished.

The corners of Cat's mouth twitched upwards, but she was serious again when she replied "So what is it then?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'it's not that', meaning it's _something_."

Damn. That did some damage to her theory about Cat not being as smart as she seemed. Biting her lip, Tara internally debated with herself. The logical part of her didn't doubt that if she voiced what was bothering her, it would get back to Dwayne. What she wasn't sure of was how much that would actually faze her. The last thing she had the patience for was lying, hedging around issues, and pretending she was fine when she wasn't. And, at the root of it all, she _really_ wanted to talk about it. Hesitantly, she took a deep breath in and Cat muted the television in preparation.

"A while ago...I told him some very personal shit. I don't even know why, honestly."

"He has a way of worming shit out of you," Cat gave her a knowing look "Back when I first moved here he basically appointed himself as my therapist. Don't worry, he won't tell anybody-"

"I'm not worried about that," although it was reassuring "It's just...Earlier tonight he had a chance to take the same leap of faith. He, uh, chose not to."

"Doesn't surprise me," Cat admitted, leaning back "All of the boys are closed books most of the time. I wouldn't take it personally, especially not with Dwayne. The whole 'strong and silent' thing isn't an act, y'know?"

Biting her lip, Tara nodded slowly, a small part of her annoyance slipping away.

"Can I ask what you asked him about?" The Brit asked gently.

"He mentioned that he had a sister," she admitted.

"Ah…" Cat winced "Yeah."

"You know the story?"

"Bits and pieces, but it's not mine to tell," she stated simply.

Of course Cat would know - she didn't even know why she was surprised. Once again, Tara found herself at a disadvantage simply for not being a Lost Boy.

"It's just that...ugh. I dunno. It sucks when you open up to somebody and they don't wanna do the same."

"I get where you're coming from, chick, but with a topic that sensitive…"

"I know, I know," she shook her head, feeling juvenile for even admitting her thoughts " _Anyway_ have you had any more thoughts about Halloween?"

It was a painfully blatant attempt at changing the subject, but Cat didn't seem bothered. In any case, she didn't argue.

"You're really going to make me do this?" She groaned.

"Damn right I am. It's bad enough that the British don't do it properly, but the fact that the boys didn't even remedy that when you moved here? Unforgivable," Tara snorted mock-sternly, relieved at Cat's acceptance at the subject change "Have you decided on a costume yet?"

"You do realise we'll be hanging out with the boys that night? And that they won't be dressing up?"

"Well then they'll be missing out on all the fun. Costume?"

"I want to go as a flapper," Cat admitted begrudgingly "But a historically accurate one. All of the costumes I've seen so far have been painfully cheesy or cheap looking. Either I do this right or not at all."

"A woman after my own heart," Tara joked "Well I could help with that - my crafting prowess isn't limited to paint and glue guns. Just find a dress that's about the right size and shape and we can fix it up."

"Seriously?!" Cat blinked "No, Tee, that's too much. I can't ask that."

"Hell yeah you can. I need to work on my own anyway, and it'll take the edge off of the...other project if I have that to work on, too. C'mon, we'll do it together. It'll be fun and you can learn from the master," Tara grinned "And in any case, you could always repay me in sexual favours."

"And when would we break the news to the boys about our torrid love affair?" She snorted.

"Only after we have a love nest in the mountains secured," Tara shrugged as Cat giggled and unmuted the television.

* * *

"Go for the balls, Cat!" Paul hollered with a laugh.

"Don't you dare," Marko grunted, struggling to get a good headlock on her.

Upon returning to the cave, she'd discovered the boys in the midst of sparring matches - a combination of an excuse to bet, honing of skill and entertainment...and an excuse for the winners to lord it over the losers for a good decade or so, she suspected.

Exhaling through her nose stubbornly, she lifted off of the ground suddenly in an attempt to throw her brother off balance. It didn't work, and he held her down.

"Little bastard," she growled, attempting to struggle free.

They'd been evenly matched for the last few minutes...until Marko had gotten lucky, and now she knew she was in a bind. With a hiss she bit down sharply on his arm and he swore, tangling a hand into her dark waves and yanking.

"Cat's gone feral," she heard David snicker as she kicked blindly behind her, knowing she wasn't at the right angle to hit anything too painful, but hoping it'd bother him enough to get his arms away from her neck.

He pulled hard at her hair again, and Paul called out "Wouldn't bother, man, she's into that!"

Cat lost focus for half a second, torn between scolding Paul and snorting with laughter, but half a second was all Marko needed. The hand that had been wedged between his arm and her neck, preventing him from getting a proper headlock, was pulled away, and it was over.

"That too," Paul muttered as the headlock began to choke her, and she tapped out purely so she could grab the nearest item - a faded guitar magazine - and hurl it at her boyfriend.

"You're an asshole," she breathed, struggling to hold back a chuckle, as Marko helped her right herself.

"Don't worry, babe," he puffed out his chest as he stood "I'll defend your honour."

"Pff, you got rid of that long ago," she muttered dryly with a smirk, accepting his jacket after he shrugged it off.

He didn't argue, only winked, and squared up to Marko with a cocky grin. She slumped onto the sofa beside Dwayne, draping Paul's jacket over her lap for warmth before pulling a neatly folded envelope from her jeans pocket.

"What's that?" Dwayne muttered, not taking his eyes from the scuffle.

"Jamie wrote. I didn't want to be the first...Didn't know if he'd want to hear from me," she muttered.

Paul glanced over at her words, an uncharacteristically apprehensive look on his face, and caught a right hook to the jaw as penance. Cat shrugged it off - after all, with her reaction to Jamie's last piece of correspondence, she assumed he feared another shitshow. Dwayne appeared to have the same thought, glancing sideways at the letter warily.

"Watch the face, Marko!" She scolded playfully, tearing the seal.

"A bruise or two'll make him look tough!" Marko taunted, sidestepping a punch "Poor guy needs all the help he can get with that."

Her boyfriend chose that moment to rugby tackle the other Lost Boy to the ground, effectively winding him, and she laughed loudly "What was that, brother dear?"

Marko grunted but didn't reply, now far too preoccupied. With no more childishness to distract herself, Cat reluctantly began to read the letter, gnawing on her lip as she did.

"What's it say?"

"He...apologised," she blinked in surprise.

"Really?" Dwayne sounded just as stunned as she felt.

"Well, not in so many words, but it's as good as anybody can get from Jamie…" She muttered "Said he should've just told me to call him and told me like that."

"Wonder what caused the change of heart," David muttered, but there was something in his tone that made her frown.

"Do you guys know something I don't?" She frowned, looking between the two of them.

"Huh? 'Course not," Dwayne shook his head, focus on what had turned into a grappling match in front of them.

"Be careful!" She called with a wince as Marko's head flew dangerously close to the fountain ledge.

"Yes mom!" He grunted.

The letter got harder to read as it went on and she fell silent, brow furrowed.

"You okay?" She almost jumped when Dwayne spoke to her again - but this time he was the only one paying her any mind.

"Ignorance is bliss," she muttered with a sigh "Reason he got so pissed was that, towards the end, she kept...she kept saying stuff like 'I'll be with Cat'. Obviously he knew that wasn't the case."

"Damn," he winced a little.

Marko was now doing his best to stand up, but he appeared to find it rather difficult with Paul clinging to one of his legs, pulling down hard to prevent him from lifting off of the ground.

"Yeah," she agreed, folding up the letter and tucking it back into her jeans.

Back when she was human, she'd believed strongly in the supernatural - perhaps not so much vampires and the like, but definitely ghosts, spirits and everything similar. It was probably somewhat ironic that since becoming a vampire, she'd begun to question her belief in the paranormal. Maybe now that death was less of an issue, so was the afterlife. But now, if ghosts were real and her mum was with her...she wasn't sure she wanted her to be. After all, if she was, she now knew everything. Like she'd just said - ignorance was bliss. That went for her mother, too. Dwayne was eyeing her unsurely, probably waiting for her to voice the thoughts beginning to stir. She didn't. One night she probably would, but this wasn't the night for it.

Paul had Marko pinned face-down beneath him now, beaming triumphantly as his brother squirmed.

"You don't get outta there soon, Marko, and I'll start to suspect you're enjoying yourself there," David provoked with a shit-eating grin.

Marko gave a snarl, and nearly managed to roll free...until Paul seized one of his arms and yanked it to an unnatural angle behind his back. With a loud curse, Marko caved and it was all over.

"My hero," she snickered as Paul milked his victory for everything it was worth, both fists raised in the air.

"David?" Paul challenged.

"Not again. Beat all of your asses so many times and it starts to get old," he shrugged, and Dwayne followed suit when the blond turned to him.

He raised his eyebrows at her next, and Cat rolled her eyes "No thanks, you don't need pretext to grope me, sweetheart."

"Guess that makes me the undisputed champ," he shrugged happily, grabbing a beer and falling into place beside her.

"So how was the mortal's?" David ignored the boast, and suddenly the boys quieted a little "Any silver stakes lying around? Crucifixes?"

"Nah, she just shoved around ten cloves of garlic down my throat," she muttered sarcastically "I quite enjoyed it. One of my five a day."

David looked almost proud at her snark "Nothing happened then?"

"We do have a potential issue," she admitted begrudgingly, hesitating before continuing with a sigh "I don't know how you lot do it, but back home once somebody invited you to their house...if you didn't return the favour, after a while they get pissed off. It's rude. Doesn't help that he's climbing Dwayne like a tree most nights, which makes us kinda more obligated to give her an invite at some point. If we don't, it's inconsiderate at best and fishy at worst."

"Well maybe this is time to cut ties," David muttered "Don't give her an invite, maybe she gets offended and puts some distance between us."

Cat was more surprised at the way Dwayne tensed beside her than she was at her own disappointment.

"We all know it's too late in the day for that," she sighed.

"Cat-" he groaned.

"Listen, I don't like this any more than you do," she said honestly "If she happened to show up one day without an invite - doubtful, but possible - Paul and I are the ones at greatest risk. You guys can't be accidentally exposed to sunlight while you sleep, short of being dragged out of the damn cave, but somehow I think you'd notice. With us, all she'd need to do was open the curtains a little too much at the wrong time of day, and we're cremated. However, you know I wouldn't even bring it up if I didn't think we could trust her, and you know how hard my trust is to come by these days for anybody who doesn't call themselves a Lost Boy."

Which was probably laughable, considering how she'd become one of them. But that was ancient history.

"A rock and a hard place," Marko shrugged "But we can't pretend we don't have an answer. We've gotten through worse with less."

"And what do you suggest?" David raised an eyebrow.

"I got nothin'," Marko shrugged, hands raised in mock-surrender "But we always come up with _something_."

"Brings up one important issue anyway," Paul spoke up "Alcove's never been as secure as it should be. We need to do something about that."

Cat nodded in agreement. As long as they were alone in the cave, they were perfectly safe. _As long as they were alone_. She liked to think that should Tara ever make the unlikely decision to show up at the cave unannounced in the daytime, that she'd notice the relative silence and assume they were off at work. She also liked to think that, even if she thought they were in the cave, she'd know better than to wander into Cat and Paul's "bedroom" without being assured that they were decent, too. But this would be staking their lives on a lot of things she'd _like_ to believe. They'd need some kind of gameplay if it was going to happen.

And they hadn't even settled on that yet.

"A vote," David spoke through the cigarette between his lips.

This didn't surprise her - it was a clear win for him. She loved David, but he was a sneaky little opportunist at times. Not that she grudged him that, it probably kept them alive. She and Dwayne were the only two who would feasibly vote in favour of Tara receiving an invite, should they find a way of securing the cave in the daytime beforehand.

"I'll go first. No," he looked at Marko.

"Nah," Marko shook his head somewhat apologetically.

"Yeah," Dwayne muttered.

"Yes," she said reluctantly, and then sat back, waiting for Paul's inevitable 'No'.

"...If we can find a way to make it safe - and _only_ if we can find a way to make it safe...yeah."

Cat stared at him, lost for words.

"Hey, I'm a risk-taker," he tried to wave the gesture off with a joke and a wink, but Cat couldn't shake the touched expression from her face.

David, to his credit, recovered quickly.

"If we can't find some way to secure this place that makes us all comfortable with it happening, it doesn't happen," he warned.

"I wouldn't want anything different," Cat said quickly, astonishment clear in her voice.

Dwayne nodded in agreement, looking even more surprised than her.

"Gotta keep you on your toes somehow," Paul muttered into her ear, sounding decidedly smug at her reaction.

"For that I thought your mind would go straight to rope," she quipped, but shifted so that her head was resting on his shoulder.

She'd show him the full extent of her gratitude later...And hopefully wouldn't regret leading him to take such a leap of faith.


	17. Author's Note

A/N:

So, I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news is that I'm considering discontinuing this series. The good news is that whether I do or not is down to you guys – finding free time is no longer an issue now that I've finished and passed all of my assignments until September. I just feel like whilst the technical side of the writing has probably improved since the last story, that this one just doesn't have that same spark that the last did, which made me so enthusiastic to work on it. Hell, I started this one because I enjoyed working on the last one so much that I didn't want to leave it be.

Of course, maybe I'm just getting into my head, and if you guys are still game and still enjoying the "series", I'll happily rise to it and finish the story – I enjoy working on it and I'm still Lost Boys trash, I'd just really hate to be wasting your time. The next chapter only needs a few more paragraphs and editing to finish it off, so if you do want it to be continued then the wait shouldn't be too long now that my time has been freed up.

The other good news is that judging by the novel writing class feedback I received recently, you might be seeing my writing on actual shelves and not just websites within the next few years, which is unreal to me because that's always been my life's dream.

Anywho, please let me know. I don't even need an overwhelming majority to continue – just reassurance that you guys are still into it. Until then, if any of you are into Dragon Age, I've been posting some Cullen/F!Inquisitor stuff recently.

Thanks guys!

LL x


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: I received a resounding "yes!" on whether I should continue or not (I actually hadn't expected that much of a response, so the one I got blew me away and was very flattering. Thank you guys!) so I'm more than happy to continue. I had a guest reviewer ask about the novel writing/publishing possibilities I mentioned in the A/N, along with a handful of PMs, so I'll include info about that/where I'm at with it at the end of the chapter, just so anybody who isn't interested can easily skip past it :)**

* * *

"You sure this'll work?" Marko eyed the huge, wide wooden board skeptically "Seems a little too simple to me."

"Occam's Razor states that the most straightforward answer is the correct one," Cat sing-songed, wielding a sturdy wooden pole in one hand.

"My little nerd," Paul snickered fondly, wielding the other.

They'd spent a good five minutes duelling each other with them before Dwayne had asked what exactly they planned to do. This was only after Paul had spent a great deal of time performing an obscene mime-show with the pole, too.

"Marko might be right," Dwayne cut in, frowning a little.

"Listen," Cat sighed, brushing a few strands of stray hair away from her face "When Jamie and I were younger, we had this really annoying cousin who used to come visit. I'm talking Marko levels of annoying."

Marko rolled his eyes, but didn't retaliate - probably for fear that they'd never get an explanation if they got off track again.

"Our mum wouldn't let us have locks on our bedroom doors, not when we were that young, so we had to improvise. Jamie liked to lift weights - as Paul will well remember from the solid right hook he took to the face from him - so we used the thing from his barbell, the metal pole-"

"Bar," David corrected.

"-And wedged it at an angle between the door and the wall. Suddenly when she wanted to bug us, she couldn't get in. We had to put the end of the _bar_ at the side where the hinges were, that way it couldn't be pushed out of place because that part of the door moved the least when she tried to open it, so had the least force, see? Except this piece of shit," she gestured to the wooden board "Has no hinges, so we'll need two bars to balance it out and stop it from being pushed out of place. It'll probably work best if we arrange them in an X shape at an angle across the doorway, yeah? Then we just need to weigh them down at the bottom. Bags of sand will work, and considering we live on a goddamn beach..."

Dwayne had to admit, he was a little impressed. The wood wasn't narrow enough to fit through the entrance of the alcove without being shifted at a sideways angle and then arranged into position from inside the alcove, so it couldn't be pulled away either. It wouldn't be moved unless Cat or Paul moved it. This wasn't the only precaution they'd taken. A foot or two of tunnel led into the alcove, and they'd switched their one set of ancient, heavy curtains for two sets - one that would be draped across the beginning of the opening, disguising the fact that it was even there, while the original set would go behind the wooden board, so that somebody would have to somehow hold open both sets of curtains _and_ demolish a pretty thick plank of wood to even get to the couple. They'd even considered stringing a set of cans together as a sort of alarm system in the midst of all of this, but that seemed pointless after all of their other precautions. The couple would, for all intents and purposes, be barricaded into their bedroom at the end of every night.

Finally, they'd shifted the position of their mattress inside so that it laid sideways, shoved as much against the far wall of the alcove as possible. It meant that they'd have to climb over each other to get onto it, what with there only being one free side to access it from now, but he doubted they cared, and it brought their resting place as much out of the path of potential sunlight as possible.

"It's gonna be suffocating in there during summer," David pointed out "Old system was shit, sure, but it let more air in."

"I'd rather sweat than burn," Paul shrugged and Cat nodded in agreement, scrutinising what they'd managed to put together "Cave's usually cold as shit anyway."

"When we bring her over, we could even move the mural against the wall where the alcove is," she pointed out, gesturing to the enormous likeness of Jim Morrison "She won't even know it's there."

All that was left to do, it seemed, was invite her over. David made no pretence of being happy about the situation, but he didn't seem furious either. If he was, she wouldn't be coming. Dwayne's main problem was trying to hide just how happy he was about it - and explaining to himself just why that might be.

* * *

Originally Tara had planned on spending the night in her bedroom with music and her projects. Then Dwayne had turned up at the end of her shift.

"You busy?" He asked with a lazy smirk.

"I was planning on a quiet night in," she said somewhat apologetically.

Even as she said it, she half regretted the decision. However, one of the reasons she'd sworn off of relationships was how distracting it might be from her commitment to her art, and her future in general. This rule also applied to time spent with Dwayne, given the "unique" nature of their friendship. She knew that if she left now, she'd return an hour two before dawn, fit for nothing but aspirin, a shower and bed.

"We're not doing anything crazy," he raised his hands in a show of mock-innocence.

Tara wasn't sure that ever could be said of the Lost Boys, but the spark of interest must've shown on her face because he continued.

"We're all just gonna hang out at our place. Even bring the art stuff if you want, s'long as you can carry it on the bike."

Now she was sorely tempted. Especially with the open invite to work on her art while she was there to sweeten the deal - although it did axe the idea of getting any Halloween costume work done. The idea of sitting alone in her bedroom seemed to pale in comparison to sating her newfound curiosity about what the Lost Boys' home might be like.

" _C'mon_ , doll," he drew out the words in a tone that screamed 'you know you want to!' "If you wind up sick of the sight of us, I'll give you a ride right back - and I don't even mean 'ride' in a dirty way."

She couldn't hold back a snort at that - and she also couldn't ignore the feeling that this wasn't an offer to turn down lightly. Sure, she was significantly less intimidated by the gang nowadays, but they still had an undeniably predatory aura; one that she had yet to understand. There was just something about them, lurking beneath the surface of their smiles. Something that she'd seen jump out during their encounter with the guys from the comic book store. Inviting outsiders into their territory was not something predators did lightly. A warm feeling of flattery spread through her chest, and she could practically see a banner reading 'Congratulations! Next friendship level achieved!' Unfolding over Dwayne's head.

"...I'll need to grab some stuff," she caved.

* * *

Tara was surprised on two levels at the Lost Boys' home. The first surprise was that it was a goddamn cave. She'd never purposely pictured the Lost Boys' place, but always assumed somewhere in the back of her mind that it would be some kind of chaotically small and charming apartment worthy of an aspiring rock band. Clearly, she'd been wrong. The second surprise was that she was even surprised in the first place. Of course they lived in a cave. Their main goal in life seemed to be to be unconventional, so why would their living arrangements be any different? Tearing her eyes away from her surroundings only long enough to allow Dwayne to help her descend into the cave smoothly, she felt like a kid in Disneyland. She only stopped staring around in wide-eyed disbelief when she nearly dropped her bag in her distraction.

"...So...This is Neverland, huh?" She breathed.

"The rent's a real steal."

Dwayne was smiling in a way that bordered on fondness at her reaction, but it wasn't enough for her to try to tone down her delight. It was everything she loved - unconventional, bohemian, quirky...hell, there was a goddamn mural of Jim Morrison that almost took up an entire length of wall. She'd gone from confusion, once they began to drive away from the town, to exasperation, expecting some kind of prank when the bike stopped at the cliff side, to pure wonder and amazement when all became clear. She thanked whatever powers existing out there that she'd accepted Dwayne's invitation.

The others turned from where they sat and nodded in greeting at her arrival, before turning back to what seemed to be that moment's amusement. Cat was standing on the ledge of an old fountain in the middle of the makeshift living room, swathed in her plaid like a warrior of old, recounting the evening's earlier events to David and Marko with exaggerated hand gestures and eerily accurate impressions.

"So the officer turns to Paul and goes 'Son, have you got a police record?'," she paused to control her giggles "And Paul doesn't even miss a fuckin' beat, going 'A couple, yeah, Sting can really sing, huh?'"

The group burst into laughter, with Paul beaming proudly.

"I was almost laughing too hard to run away," Cat finished with a sigh, returning to the sofa.

Once quite recovered from the shock of her surroundings, Tara found a small, pretty ragged, armchair in a corner with arms wide enough to hold her supplies as she worked. Dwayne had been true to his word when he said it would be a casual night in. Take-out, booze and the occasional narcotic (although significantly less than usual) were shared out, but these were all old-hat by now. There was music, but it was mostly Led Zeppelin, playing softly to allow for conversation.

Their home hadn't been the only surprise that the night had in store, for it seemed Paul's icy attitude towards her was beginning to thaw. As she settled down into the space she'd claimed, with Cat at her side making small talk, the blond sauntered over with two beers in hand. One which he handed to Cat, who took a sip before handing it back to him to share, and the second which he handed to Tara, who accepted it after a moment of shock. Even Cat blinked in surprise before stifling the slightest hint of a smile as Paul gave the both of them a grin, turned to Tara and greeted her with a "Welcome to the scene of the crime, girl," before retreating to the company of his brothers.

The chairs were arranged so that Tara could remain in range of the conversations taking place, but could also easily fall silent without it being too rude or awkward. This suited her perfectly. Eventually she ended up curled up in the chair with her legs beneath her, sketchpad propped up by her thighs as she worked, peering over it at her company whenever she had something to add. It felt surprisingly natural.

"So I found some stuff that'll be perfect for Halloween," Cat confided, perching on the fountain ledge - the nearest surface to Tara that was also out of earshot of the boys "It's a gorgeous silk dress - I think it's actually meant to be a shift or nightie or something, but I _also_ found a fabric that'll look amazing sewn over it. It's sheer and kind of lacy and-"

Cat halted so suddenly that Tara looked up, confused. Her eyes were glued to the sketchpad.

"Oh!" Tara blinked when she realised what had grabbed her attention "Yeah, I'm quite proud of it."

Portraits had taken her the longest to improve at, but the effort had been worth it, and she often found them the most rewarding to draw. They were also integral to the idea she'd finally landed on for her Santa Carla project - it had struck her one night as she was trying to sleep, and she ended up spending most of the night sketching out a plan. She intended to draw out an endless amount of portraits of the missing people, and eventually arrange them in a collage depending on how light or dark the portrait was, so when viewed from a distance, they would collectively read "Welcome to Santa Carla!" as almost a mockery of the sign at the road into town. It had been fun, planning the whole thing, but her shift the next day had been less so. What lay in her lap was the second grayscale portrait of what would be many, in its finishing stages. Her reference - a small photocopied photograph from a newspaper page - was paper clipped to the corner.

"Wh-" Cat stopped, coughed, and drew herself up with an intake of breath "Who is she?"

Tara looked down at the drawing, her hands now smudged with a metallic grey sheen. The girl on the page was slight, with light blonde hair, wide innocent eyes, and a small shy smile playing on her lips.

"Uhh…" she paused, lifting up her notes "Sophie Wight. One of the missing people. She was beautiful, wasn't she? Reminds me a little of Audrey Hepburn - the eyes, I think. They're why she stood out to me."

Darkening the pupils a little as she spoke, she then paused to glance back at Cat to gauge her reaction. It could have just been the beams of moonlight in the cave washing her out, but she looked pale. Well, paler than usual. Her fingers tightened in her tartan before she realised Tara was waiting for a response.

"Yeah. Definitely. Sorry, it's just...It's spooky, you know? Makes it all real. Seeing their faces."

"Trust me, I get it," Tara sighed in agreement, taking in the photo once more "There are some sick bastards out there."

After so many nights of looking through the names and faces, Tara often had the urge to look over her shoulder when she was out on the Boardwalk. Or a sense of uneasiness would overtake her if the cafe got a little too quiet after dark. The last thing she wanted to do was encounter the cause of the disappearances, no matter how strong her morbid curiosity could often be. She was surprised Santa Carla didn't have its own folklore by now.

"So how much experience do you have with sewing?" She asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh, I did a few classes of it in high school. I can do basic stuff with a machine," her attention lingered on the sketchpad before she tore her eyes away, glancing towards the Boys.

Tara didn't blame her. Sure, the cave was out of the way and...unconventional, and yes, she constantly had a group of pretty tough looking bikers around her, but there was no front door. No front door meant no lock. It could hardly feel secure, falling asleep in this place night after night. It didn't help that the girl in the drawing would've been around their age.

"If you just explain to me what you want to do with the dress, I'll teach you the steps and then you can try. Any problems and I can tweak it on the night, worst case scenario," she changed the subject, needing to rid herself of the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"You're a star, darling," Cat gave a small laugh, continuing to hug her plaid to her torso.

"Please, I enjoy it."

"Ever think about going into the costume industry? Theatre, movies?" She asked, shifting where she sat.

"I think my dad would have an aneurysm, I love it," she laughed.

Cat snickered too, now seeming to make a visible effort not to look at the sketchpad. She supposed in this situation, ignorance was bliss. It was easier to ignore the missing people, if only for one's sanity. Tara was only passing through Santa Carla - slowly, sure, but still - she couldn't imagine how it must feel to one who intended to stay there forever.

"The dream has been tattoo artistry lately," she admitted "But I have lots of dreams. Jack of all trades, master of none, right?"

"Master of all by the looks of things," Cat disagreed with the wave of a hand.

"You should hear me try to carry a tune," she snorted "I couldn't manage it with a bucket."

"Good thing we don't have any karaoke nights around here," she smiled, seeming to perk up a little.

It was then that they noticed Dwayne hovering a little ways a way, and the Brit stood, shooting Tara a parting smile "I'll leave you two to it."

Cat returned to the sofa where Paul slung an arm around her shoulder. In doing so something seemed to grab his attention and he turned to Cat, seeming to ask something quietly with his brow furrowed. She shook her head, giving a tiny smile and responding with a dismissive hand wave. Before Tara could notice more, Dwayne was talking to her.

"So...Surprised?" He smirked, taking a swig of his own drink.

"No, when you asked me to come and hang out at your place, I completely suspected it was a goddamn cave," she joked, closing the sketchpad.

"You saying I'm a caveman?" He snickered.

"Well, if the loincloth fits," she half-sang, taking a sip of her own beer and doing her best to banish the mental image for the sake of her own cool and calm demeanour.

"I think I'd look good in leopard print," he gave a wolfish grin.

"Halloween's coming up," she quipped, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"What's in it for me?"

"Free coffee at the Hideout for the rest of your life."

He chuckled "Sleeping with the waitress doesn't get me that?"

"Nope, only a leopard print loincloth will do."

"Common words around here, believe it or not."

Tara shook with laughter before giving a mock-casual shrug "Besides, if it worked like that I'd have to give everybody free coffee."

After that her focus was more on her company than on her work, but she found herself not minding too much. There was something about the atmosphere of the cave that made her want to soak it up, rather than force her attention elsewhere, which would do her work no favours.

At around two am, however, she decided to call it a night. The Lost Boys, she didn't doubt, would carry on until dawn so she could hardly carry on until they called it quits. She'd gotten used to feeling like the little old lady of the group, pottering off to get some sleep. Although there was one thing she wanted to do first.

"So…" she sidled up to Dwayne when he wandered towards the cooler to get another drink "You showed me yours, how about you see mine?"

He looked confused at first, which quickly gave way to amusement "Is that an invitation to your place or a proposition?"

"Definitely both, that's the beauty of it."

Ordinarily she'd have been worried at the prospect, but she was tired, and she was tipsy, and in all honesty she wanted to have some fun with Dwayne without worried that the night might end with a criminal record for trespassing.

"What about your aunt?"

"She'll be asleep, I'll be quiet."

"That'll be a first."

"I'm retracting the invitation in five seconds," she ignored the warmth that flooded her face.

"Let's go."

* * *

They ended up opting to sneak through the cafe to get to the apartment above, bumping into tables and snickering purely because everything's funny when you're supposed to be quiet...and when you've spent the night drinking. What surprised her was how quietly he managed to move. Part of her had been worried that Carolina might stir at the two sets of footfalls crossing the apartment to get to her room, but if she hadn't brought him in, Tara herself wouldn't have known he was there. Her bedroom was hardly as exciting as Dwayne's home, and part of her wished she'd tidied a little before leaving. She'd hadn't thought she'd have company, and rough drafts and failed sketches were littered around her desk, both on it and on the floor around it. Then she felt stupid for even thinking that - he was hardly here to give his opinion on her interior design tastes.

"Oof-" she squeaked when he pressed her against the door once they were in her bedroom, before dissolving into more giggles.

Dwayne quickly, but gently, pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, turning his head a little to listen for any sign of movement in the apartment, shaking a little with his own laughter. Once he was satisfied that her aunt wasn't about to come running - and that Tara had collected herself - his hand slipped from her face and was replaced by his lips. Relaxing, she slid one hand to his shoulder to steady herself, whilst the other rose to the side of his face, encouraging. They stayed there, kissing deeply as he wedged a thigh between her legs. Tara had already began to doubt her confidence in her ability to keep quiet.

The blinds were open, and enough light from outside was flooding the room for her to see smudges of graphite from her fingers on his face when he pulled back, but this time she didn't laugh.

"Bed," he growled mock-commandingly, causing her to mentally scold herself at how much even that got her riled up.

"Yes sir," she teased, ignoring how breathy her voice was as she ducked past him to get to the bed and move the spare clothes strewn across the comforter.

As she did, Dwayne quickly shrugged his jacket off, throwing it haphazardly across the chair at her desk. In their excitement, neither of them noticed the slip of paper that slipped from one of the pockets and fluttered to the ground to join the rest that were already there.

* * *

As she began to drift off to sleep, Tara's mind began to hazily touch upon the day's events. It had started off kind of shaky. Carolina seemed to be perpetually caught between disapproving of the Lost Boys, but also trying to be supportive. She probably thought Tara was engaged in an early quarter life crisis. The unfortunate part was she seemed to think that the solution to said crisis was Julian. Tara hadn't heard from him again - which she couldn't blame him for, and in her weaker moments felt a little guilty for it...but in all honesty, it was what she'd wanted. Every time Carolina tried to subtly suggest that Tara call him to catch up, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Even when they'd first gotten together, it had been nice, but that was it. It was _nice_. They were together because they were both moderately attractive single people within the same group. It didn't feel natural. Not like it did with Dwayne, at least.

Tara's eyes flew open when she realised what she'd just thought. Hurriedly, and for the sake of her own sanity, she pegged it up to a toxic mix of alcohol and tiredness, rolling over and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Shit.

* * *

Paul mumbled in his sleep, rolling over and draping a heavy arm across the back of her thighs. Then he grunted in groggy confusion, hand moving to feel her calve - where her head should've been. Flicking slowly to the next page of her book, Cat waited patiently to see if he'd woken up enough to talk, or would simply drop back off to sleep again.

"Babe?" He mumbled eventually, voice gruff with tiredness.

"Hmm?" She hummed softly, keeping her thumb in the book to mind her place as she turned her head to face him.

With the change in the way their 'bedroom' was arranged, she often claimed the side of the mattress that was closest to the candles, giving Paul the side closest to the blanket-covered wall, so she could take advantage of the light when she couldn't sleep.

"Why ain't you sleeping?" He asked, words muffled by the pillow his face was buried in.

"I'm fine," she reassured softly, squeezing the ankle of the leg that was closest to her "Sun's not even up yet. Go back to sleep, love."

He made a noise that must've been acceptance, as he re-draped his arm across her legs and resumed his light snoring. She couldn't stop the soft smile that spread across her lips, even despite the evening's rather jarring events, as she returned to her reading. She had yet to tell him about the night's earlier incident - she didn't want to until she knew if there was a reason to worry.

The moment she thought she heard the growl of Dwayne's bike outside she exited the alcove, moving as swiftly and quietly as she could to dismantle their make-shift barricade, worrying he might fly straight to bed once inside.

"You look like you've been up to no good," she greeted with more cheer than she thought she could muster.

He turned in slight surprise from where he sat, but did nothing to either fix how dishevelled he looked, or to remove the look of smug satisfaction from his face "Always. What's up, sis?"

"You're sure you got rid of any evidence of me in those files, right?"

"Oh! Yeah, it's-" he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and then froze.

"It's…?" She prompted nervously, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"It's...gone," he said, before continuing quickly "I mean - I burned it. Sorry. Forgot to tell you."

"You burned it?" She blinked.

Why hadn't he told her?

"Figured you'd want it gone," he explained apologetically "Outta sight, outta mind, right? With your mom and everything...figured you'd be sick of memory lane."

"It does seem to be one thing after another lately, doesn't it?" She agreed, lowering herself onto the sofa and leaning against him with a sigh.

"Tell me about it," he muttered ruefully, prompting a curious glance in his direction "Slippery slope we started on, letting her in."

"You don't regret it though," she pointed out, more pleased for him that she'd admit.

"Neither do you," he pointed out, lifting a hand to ruffle her hair jokingly.

"I don't...but tonight was tough."

"Oh?"

"She...She found Sophie's photo. She was drawing her tonight. I look at her sketchpad and bam, blast from the past. Thought I was gonna puke."

"Shit, Cat," Dwayne looked at a loss for words.

"I know they weren't good people," Cat admitted softly, feeling him stiffen in surprise at her admission "I just...It's easy to forget that - fuck, probably healthier to forget that - after what I did."

"We did," he corrected but said nothing more, allowing for her continue.

"If life had gone on as I expected it to, I'd like to think I wouldn't be friends with them anymore," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the fountain ledge "If our places were traded...Bryana would've killed me without a second thought. Okay, maybe not a second thought, but certainly without even half of the amount of guilt that I hold. Sophie? She wasn't bad but...She'd do anything Bryana asked of her. And I pretended it was okay because she'd known her longer. They'd sit in the same room as me at parties and make fun of me, you know? Could you imagine any of you doing that? Or Marko treating me like shit because David told him to?"

Ghosts of embarrassment along with the fear she used to have over something as simple as standing up for herself washed over her, making her pause for a moment, cringing.

"I knew. They knew I knew. They did it anyway. Because they knew I wouldn't do anything. They made me feel lucky to have friends in the first place," she scoffed "At the time I was just grateful that they put up with me. Thought I deserved their bullshit. I didn't know what it was like to have good friends until you guys. Didn't even realise how fucked up a lot of the stuff they did was until I couldn't even imagine any of you doing it. You know me, I'm not charming, or particularly charismatic - fuck, back then I wouldn't say 'boo' to a goose. I'm not a David or...or a Paul. But you all made me realise that it was okay."

Dwayne couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at that - although it was dubious at best. Right at the beginning, when Cat had begun to heal from...everything…and began to truly get to know them as her new family, they'd had to beg her to stop thanking them with wide-eyed surprise for absent-minded acts of kindness, back when she'd first arrived. Tiny, insignificant things that just showed basic decency towards her. What was worse was they'd had to drum out her habit of apologising for stupid shit - mostly talking about herself. From the tiny amount of time he'd spent with Bryana, Dwayne could see how the mortal would have taken offence to that. He was glad she was dead. Of course, he wouldn't voice that.

"And so does she - Tara," she finished, biting her lip "But I'm beginning to wonder who might be a danger to who. We've spent so long figuring out how we're going to protect ourselves, but who's going to protect her? You've seen what happens to my mortal friends, and this one? Well, she's actually a good person."

"Nothing's going to happen to her."

Cat wasn't sure whether his statement was more hope or determination, as she remembered having told herself the same thing about Sophie and Bryana all those years ago, but what did strike her was the adamance in his tone. She said nothing - knowing it was better not to - but wondered if he'd realised quite how much he liked Tara yet. Even though part of her was amused, and the optimistic part of her was pleased, she felt for him. The day he did realised, if it hadn't come already, would not be an easy one. For him or for anybody.

* * *

 **A/N: So, regarding the novel writing thing. This year (my second year of uni) one of my creative writing assignments was to write the first 5k words of a novel. I did, working on an idea that's been stewing in my mind but previously unexpressed for five or six years now, and I got a first (the equivalent of an A). My teacher, who knows I plan on trying to get published, was very pleased and basically said it definitely has prospects in the fantasy genre. All of my CW teachers have confirmed that they believe I have a future in writing/conveyed hopes that I pursue it, which is thrilling because they themselves are all published authors/playwrights/journalists, and up til now I was very worried about how much of an unconventional path it is to try and follow, even if there's nothing I'd rather do. Next year (my third and final year), my main assignment will be to write 10k words of a novel - so I'll work on the same thing I worked on this year, just writing the next 10k words (although I hope to write much much more than the 10k I'll submit, the assignment just happens to align well with my goals so it's a 2 birds 1 stone kinda deal). After that I'm going to move to a new city and do another degree in another subject (ancient history, probably), just to give myself something to do whilst I work more on the novel (I'm hoping by that point it'll be mainly just polishing it up), and then I'll be in a position to contact/send samples to agents who, if they accept me, will then contact publishers and take care of the technical side of things. I already have an agency in mind, so right now it's all down to writing the damn novel.**

 **The novel itself is a fantasy novel, set in a whole new world (the main reason why it's taking me a while to work on it - worldbuilding is hard gdi) that I've created. I'm a huge fan of things like Lord of the Rings, ASOIAF, Dragon Age, Skyrim etc for an idea of my influences. It involves magic, pirates - although an 'adapted' version of them - a lot of mythological/pagan-inspired elements and the usual fight between 'good' and 'evil', but I'm trying to keep everything in a very sort of grey area, so that it's more or less up to the reader who they agree with more, instead of having one side who is definitely right, because the real world isn't like that. Because of this, a lot of it will be about the main character torn between which side to join, as they have ties to both. With the way it's looking now, in terms of plotting, it'll probably end up as two or three books, which works because book deals tend to be handed out in pairs, from what visiting speakers have told us.**

 **I've rambled enough. Basically right now it's very early days, but I'm very focused on it, especially as the praise and encouragement from my teachers and peers has lit a fire under my ass. If it does happen, I'll definitely post some A/Ns on my stories (even the completed ones) with information on them, along with links on my profile for anybody who might be interested...after I spend a week crying tears of pure joy. Thank you so much to those who have messaged me with encouragement over the whole thing, and to those who have encouraged me to write in general! It's very uplifting and really does mean a lot, because it's a scary thing to try, rather than pursuing a "conventional" career. Hell, I've been dreaming of this since I was nine years old, so it's all very surreal to see it in the process of being made reality.**

 **Small, extra side note - during a meeting with my novel writing teacher, he asked me what other genres I've written in and there was a brief moment of panic when I had to think of something to say other than "fan-fiction of 80s vampire movies" :')**


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: Not as long as I would have liked, but adding more felt misplaced, and I wanted to update before I end up travelling for a while (with my notepad!)...and before I see the Guns n' Roses reunion gig tomorrow night, which will definitely be the death of me :')**

* * *

Dwayne couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so on edge - whilst sober, of course. He'd lost it. The one thing in Santa Carla that would land them in a whole new world of shit. He could remember finding the page with Cat's picture, putting it in his jacket all proud of himself, and then...well, then promptly forgetting about it. The relief of getting it out of the library had lulled him into a false sense of security, and what was worse was that it could be anywhere. He'd been all over Santa Carla since he'd found it, and had no idea when exactly it had gone missing. The one blessing in the entire shitshow was that Cat had believed him when he said he'd burned it. He didn't even want to think about the chaos that would ensue if the others knew the truth. Even this blessing, however, was bittersweet. He should tell them the truth - both Cat and his brothers - he was _burning_ to. It wasn't the sort of shit they kept from each other. There wasn't much that they kept from each other. In any other situation, he'd be calling a group meeting in a heartbeat. Lying had always come easily to Dwayne, it was a very useful survival tool, but lying to his siblings? It didn't sit well with him.

What refused to let himself consider was _why_ he was lying in the first place. The 'official' reason - the alibi he was telling himself - was that the truth would cause absolute goddamn pandemonium. This way, he figured he was giving himself a chance to quietly retrace his steps to find the damn page...no matter how unlikely he knew that was. He knew that the big brother-esque "Cat has been through enough lately" excuse was painfully weak, and growing weaker as time went on. After the way she'd joined them, honesty was important to her. Plus, she was a grown woman. It was patronising to pretend he was keeping her in the dark "for her own good". He was doing more harm than good by keeping her in the dark - she'd rather be able to see the angry elephant charging towards her than be blindfolded to the danger in the first place.

The second explanation was the one that caused him the most guilt. He was scrambling to cover his own ass, because he'd screwed up bad and he _knew_ it. Hell, he could already see the look David would give him if he found out. They told him to get close so he could run interference, and he ended up getting so close that he completely fucking failed. It would raise a number of questions, which he'd been conveniently ignoring in his own mind.

Then...there was the third and most troubling explanation. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't know for sure that the page had _fallen_ out of his jacket. If one of his brothers had found it in search of a lighter or something to snort or smoke, they'd have spoken up. So if it had been taken, it had to have been Tara. Now that? That would be a disaster. Dwayne quickly reviewed her behaviour over the last few times they'd hung out, trying to see if he could pinpoint some kind of change, however small. It was no use. Sure, there was the fact that she'd been reluctant to hang out that night, but when the Lost Boys weren't feeding, they'd been taking up a lot of her time - plus, she had a job and a crapload of hobbies. It wasn't outlandish to want time alone. Would she have really invited him back to her place, all promising smiles, if she'd found something like that in his jacket?

None of this changed the fact that if the others knew, he would more than definitely be outvoted on whether to "take care of her" or not. It didn't even matter if he got Cat on his side (she'd be a wildcard in such a vote), he knew immediately what the others would say - Even Paul would only go so far to make Cat happy. If the blond heard of this, he'd stop giving Tara any kind of chance at all. Dwayne knew he wouldn't even be able to fault any of them - hell, if he traded places with any of them, he'd make the same choice. Nothing would keep the girl safe if any of his brothers thought they might be in danger because of what she might know.

Suppressing a groan, he leaned forward, face in his hands. He should've gotten rid of Cat's friends' pictures, too. But in all honesty, he probably wouldn't have recognised them, and he'd been on a time crunch. The problem was, Tara was like a dog with a bone when something sparked her interest - what if she started digging into the lives of the victims she'd circled out? He knew what - she'd see that "Catriona MacKenzie" had gone missing with Sophie, and then god knew what would happen.

But he'd be lying if he pretended that determination wasn't one of the things that made her so damn attractive to him. If Tara gave something her attention, whether good or bad, she gave it all of herself. She was fire or she was ice. She gave it everything, or didn't spare it a thought. This was precisely why they most certainly didn't want her prodding at the skeletons in their closet, however.

Biting at the corner of his lower lip, Dwayne stood. He'd check the "bedroom" floor for the page before he slept. Maybe it had fallen out whilst he was upside down. Somehow he doubted he'd be that lucky.

* * *

Tara woke up feeling distinctly uneasy. Because of this, she lingered on her appearance as she got ready. It gave her something else to think of, and although it was superficial, if she knew she looked good then it made a shitty day at least a tiny bit better. Small boosts to bad days could make a world of difference. She chose a pair of ripped black shorts, a black spaghetti strap shirt, and a silk kimono-like purple shawl she'd haggled for relentlessly on the boardwalk, entertaining the Lost Boys in doing so. Complete with her butterfly earring and a few hand-made bracelets, her mind had already soothed a little by the time she finished pinning her hair back into an elaborate plait and applied a little makeup. All of that effort also kept her mind away from thoughts of a certain biker, and her half-asleep delusions concerning him the night before.

With no shift that day, and no baking to do to help out, she took to nibbling on spare brownies and taking to her sewing machine. Cat had half-explained wanting her costume of a 1920s flapper to be a surprise from the boys, by which Tara took to mean "Paul", and she didn't like her own sewing projects to be seen before completion, so she'd kept all designs and progress firmly under wraps at times when she might be disturbed by the boys. In the end, for her own costume she'd opted to go as one of Dracula's brides. She had the fake fangs, and it gave her a lot of creative freedom (aka 'room to fuck up') and sources of inspiration to draw from. It was that, or some sort of historical queen, but she didn't even want to think about the amount of fabric and work that one would've taken.

She didn't know how long she'd been working, only that she'd pretty much finished the upper half, when Carolina's knocking pulled her from her blissfully detached mindset.

"I've made lunch - come eat?"

In truth, Tara wasn't very hungry, but because of the way their shifts worked out, and differences in lifestyles, she and her aunt tended to eat separately at different times. If Carolina was requesting her presence for a meal, it was likely that she wanted to talk. Steeling herself for another lecture on the Lost Boys, and the concept that "proximity is power" and "you are who you spend your time with", she rose from her chair and marched dutifully to the small table in the kitchen.

An unbelievably large serving of lasagne was placed in front of her, and she immediately felt guilty for her begrudging attitude, painting a smile across her face. Taking the seat opposite her, Carolina began to eat her own serving.

"So, I'd say you're settling in really well," Carolina commented.

"Yeah," she agreed warily.

"Are you happy?"

"Well, I mean, that's a pretty existential question."

Laughing almost proudly, Carolina elaborated "Being in Santa Carla? Working in the tea room? Selling jewellery?"

"Sure," she shrugged "It's worlds better than being back home."

"But it's not getting you any closer to where you want to ultimately be," her aunt regarded her with a knowing look.

For the briefest moment there was a flash in Carolina's eyes that made her look almost identical to Tara's mom, and she looked away.

"Uh…" she gathered herself before frowning "I really haven't been here that long?"

"No, no! I didn't mean I want you to - I'm going about this all wrong. Of course I expect you to be here much longer. You're welcome as long as you want," her aunt interrupted before sighing.

Slowly, she reached into her large handbag, lying her feet under the table.

"I hope you don't mind, but I took your portfolio and showed it to the guy who runs the tattoo parlour on the boardwalk - the proper one, not any of the stalls."

Tara almost dropped her fork.

"I explained to him - he's called Jason, and he's a lovely guy - anyway, I explained the only reason you're not off _killing it_ at some big fancy art school is money, and he was really impressed. Said to go introduce yourself and maybe you can intern."

"It'd mainly be making coffee, cleaning up and observing," Tara murmured thoughtfully.

"Well we all need to start somewhere, kid."

"No!" Tara quickly backtracked, unable to stop the grin that was spreading across her face like wildfire "I'm thrilled! I just...How? I personally begged so many place in New York and got nothing!"

"Santa Carla doesn't have quite the same amount of competition, sweetheart."

"This isn't just because you know the guy?" Tara asked sharply.

"No! He's nice, but he's a straight-shooter. If he didn't like what he saw, he'd have told me very kindly, but very firmly. Definitely wouldn't offer anything," Carolina reassured.

"Good," she nodded slowly, picking her fork back up even though she was too excited, nervous and curious to be hungry.

"But some advice for the future - there's no shame in using connections for opportunity. It got a lot of great people a lot of places. It's a sad but true fact that a lot of the time, it's _who_ you know and not _what_ you know."

Tara hummed in agreement before sighing and putting her fork back down so she could give Carolina her full attention.

" _Thank you_ , aunt Carolina...I don't even know what to say. You're so supportive and it just...it really does mean a lot. I, uh, I hope you know that, I guess."

The control freak in her wished that she'd had a chance to sift through the portfolio that had been presented to this "Jason", just to make sure that she was happy with it, but that was just the part of her that didn't want to burst into bouts of utterly touched tears. Back home, even if she'd secured some kind of apprenticeship, her dad would've likely pitched a fit if he found out. Probably would've kicked her out, too. Definitely would've threatened to, at least. Then where would she have found herself? Living with Julian? This way, when she did leave Santa Carla, she'd have more than a waitressing job under her belt...and a lot more in the way of skills, too.

Unable to help it, she stood and held her arms out to her aunt. Carolina seemed to have been hoping she would, standing and hugging her fiercely.

"I've had the idea for a while, I just wanted to see how you liked it here first. Didn't want you staying somewhere that wasn't right for you for a job," she admitted "You have so much talent. I want to see you use it. So did your mom."

"I know," Tara nodded, standing back and pretending her mascara was irritating her as an excuse to wipe at her eyes.

"And I don't know what's going on with your dad lately, but deep down he feels the same. He used to, so strongly. You can't just turn that off."

Tara snorted skeptically, returning to her seat.

"You know you can talk to me about it, right?"

Not if she didn't want to start an inter-family war that only the likes of Shakespeare could accurately portray.

"Waste of energy - it's over," she shrugged.

"And the girlfriend? What's she like with you?" Carolina had mastered the feat of combining both the attitude of a gossipy friend, with the protectiveness of a mother bear.

"She...Ha. She, uh, sat me down and told me, very sweetly, that she thought my _interests_ and _lifestyle_ are a bad influence for Em. She told me that 'mothers and daughters should have similar interests' and that if I 'made more of an effort', Emma, her, n' me could be 'quite the trio," Tara grumbled, mimicking Alison's sickly sweet tone.

Carolina slowly lowered her fork "And you responded with?"

The corners of Tara's lips twisted upwards on their own now, as she gave a quiet but smug laugh.

"I told her that my mother and I _did_ have similar interests, Emma and I are quite the _pair,_ and then I _sweetly_ suggested that she get the hell out of my goddamn bedroom," she answered softly "The bitch is barely a decade older than me."

"Thank god for that, 'cause if you hadn't, I'd be calling right now to do it," Carolina sighed in relief.

"Father dearest didn't share the sentiment."

"Well you'll always have me, kid."

Tara couldn't reply to that - she knew she wouldn't be able to hide the emotions in her voice.

* * *

 **A/N: Filler, but Tara needed something nice to happen to her (and more to do other than waitress) just before it all goes to hell :') the next one is going to be dramaaaaatic.**


	20. Chapter 19

"I'm rolling another," Cat announced to the group, sitting with her back hunched to prevent the weather from getting in her way "If the fucking wind will let me."

"Pah, you're just soft. I grew up rollin' em outside," David teased.

" _Back in my day_ ," Marko mocked with a grin.

"We had to do _all_ of our narcotics outside!" Paul joined in with a bark of laughter "What, walls hadn't been invented yet, David?"

David took the teasing in good humour, and Tara briefly wondered how old he was. The boys all looked about the same age, but she'd always been terrible at gauging that kind of stuff. They had to be at least close to each-other in age though, right? Her assumption that they'd all met in school (with the exception of Cat) suddenly challenged, she'd been about to ask when Cat spoke up.

"Any takers?" she asked, gesturing to the battered magazine in her lap, which served as a makeshift joint rolling station.

"How the fuck aren't you dead yet?" Tara asked half-jokingly from where she sat on the cooler "I've had less than you and I don't think I could walk if you offered me ten grand."

"How do you get to Carnegie Hall?" the Brit looked up from her handiwork with a grin.

Tara tilted her head in confusion.

"Practise!" Dwayne responded for her with an eye-roll that told Tara this was far from the first time he'd heard it.

"Hey, if I can't get fucked up on Devil's Night, when can I?" the girl defended.

"Halloween," David suggested.

"Or any night after, like we always freakin' do," Paul snickered "Should've brought a pipe, babe. S'easier."

"Pipes make my throat feel like shit," Cat disagreed, shaking her head.

A very pointed, very exasperated, look from David stopped whatever mentally scarring remark Paul had been ready to shoot back in return.

"Paul. _Buddy_. Would it kill you to remember, before you open your mouth, that she might be your girl, but she's our sister? The fewer mental images I have to deal with, the better."

The blond said nothing in return to David's words, but simply mimicked locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Tara muffled a laugh, tugging her hoodie tighter around herself. She rarely wore a leather jacket around the Lost Boys, childishly aware of not wanting to look like some bizarre hanger-on to their tailcoats.

Happy for any excuse to party, the gang had embraced Tara's new job prospects with open arms and promptly began scouting Santa Carla for a party venue. It was a pretty nice, mild, night and so they settled on the cliffs beside the cave – the Lost Boys' "backyard", as they called it. The night was shaping up to be a great one and Tara was on cloud nine. To think she'd woken up certain that the day would be terrible. The one hiccup was…Dwayne. Well, more like her goddamn brain when it came to him.

She'd been happy to peg up her childish _romantic_ thoughts concerning him to tiredness and a lack of sobriety. Hell, who didn't get sappy when they were less than sober and already half asleep? It was only natural for her mind to wander to sentimentality, and for the guy who she'd been sleeping with to be the focus of that. Who else was there around here for her to manifest that towards? The guys from the comic book store? One of the other Lost Boys? No. It was all very logical, and very easily explained away.

What none of that helped (and neither did the weed) was the paranoia. Paranoia that she was acting differently towards him because of all of the overthinking, paranoia that he was noticing the change in her behaviour – if it was there – and acting differently…Paranoia that she was being overly paranoid. Second guessing herself wasn't something that Tara did often, and she didn't intend to start now, but when every action was preceded by the thought of "Is this how I normally act? What would I usually do?" it was hard _not_ to act differently, damn it.

When she'd told them her news, she hadn't expected a great deal of joy from the others. Sure, they were good people, but sitting back and congratulating each-other on career opportunities seemed distinctly un-Lost Boy. Then she told them, and suddenly Cat was hugging her whilst she gushed about how great the whole thing was, and how she knew Tara had what it took to go far. The moment had warmed Tara, and made her feel guilty for how she'd judged the girl for crap like her decision to leave university for this life. But the Brit was short, and as she'd been hugging her and singing congratulations, she'd noticed David and Dwayne share a pointed look. At least, she thought she had.

Since then, things had been normal. Sure, Dwayne seemed a little quiet, but he was always quiet. The only difference that she was sure she could pinpoint was a certain distractedness. Dwayne always seemed so focused, so thoughtful and so _interested_. It was intense, sure, but also flattering to feel like what she was saying mattered so much. Tonight? Well, tonight he just seemed thoughtful. But that didn't _have_ to be down to her. Hell, if anything it was painfully selfish for her assume it was, or to get her panties in a twist just because he didn't seem "fully present" around her on that one night. What she was left asking was why it was getting to her so much, which brought her right back to the start of her entire dilemma. One glorious, mind-twisting cycle that she'd completely had enough of.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She hadn't even noticed the subject of her musings standing right in front of her until he spoke.

"They're worth a twenty, at least," she replied lightly, standing so he could grab a drink from the cooler.

"I'll write an IOU," he sank to the ground beside the cooler, sitting on his jacket and seemingly unbothered by the cool night air.

The Who's "The Seeker" was blaring from the speakers, so she ended up joining him on the ground so they'd be able to hear each other.

"For somebody who's celebrating, you look like you've got a lot on your mind," he commented curiously.

"Honestly, I'm relieved," she admitted, clinking her bottle against his "Up 'til now it's been just…getting by until my "big break" came along, and shitting myself over the fact that it might never come along. Hell, artists are a dime a dozen back home and suddenly this opportunity lands in my lap without me even knowing about it? Or – or fighting tooth and nail for it? It doesn't feel real. I'm waiting for something to go tits up, put me in my place."

"Your _place_?" he snorted incredulously "And where d'you think that is, exactly?"

"Sure as hell not near any kind of success," she muttered.

"Not with that attitude," he replied, more seriously than she expected before leaning closer and lowering his voice so only she'd be able to hear him "You wanna know what'll separate all those oh-so-talented artists over in NYC into 'successful' and 'unsuccessful' – provided you buy into the bullshit average definition of the word?"

"Enlighten me," she blinked in surprise at the serious turn the conversation was taken, and received an only half-amused.

"Belief. You walk around thinking that life's out to get you and sooner or later something's gonna kick you up the ass, then it will. You'll make it happen by having that shit in your head so often that you bring it on yourself. You think Axl Rose thought he'd never amount to a thing? Hell no."

"Can I ask you something else?" she asked thoughtfully.

"'Course."

"What's your definition of success? If the average definition is bullshit."

"Doing what you want, where you want, when you want, with whoever you want, as much as you want," he said it as though it were obvious.

What a very Lost Boy definition, Tara thought to herself wryly, but couldn't disagree with anything he'd said. What was the alternative definition? Wealth? She'd rather live in a dumpster with the freedom to do what she wanted, than in a mansion following somebody else's rules. That was how she'd found herself in Santa Carla in the first place, after all.

"How old are you, Dwayne?" she asked, tilting her head.

It seemed like something she should've known before she fell into bed with him, but it didn't bother her too much.

"Uh, twenty-five," he blinked "Why?"

"You're very wise. You must be an old soul," she joked, nudging her shoulder against his.

Regardless of how she joked, his words really had reassured her. He was right. If she went into the interview the next morning certain she'd fail, she'd hardly give a good impression. Who wanted to take on someone who didn't even trust themselves to do a good job? Her art was good, and she was a fast learner. What could go wrong?

Struck by impulse, she pressed a kiss to his cheek "Thank you. You're a star."

One corner of his lips twitched upwards, and if Tara didn't know him quite well, she'd accuse him of almost looking bashful. Then she realised what he definitely _did_ look – tired.

"Are _you_ alright? You look exhausted," she couldn't resist asking.

"Calling me old _and_ exhausted in under a minute, doll?" he gracefully evaded the question.

"I'll be relying on my charisma to get me through tomorrow," she responded dryly "And I also called you wise, so it's all balanced out. Now answer me."

"Tell me how hot I am and I'll call it even."

"You're insufferable."

"Now I need two more compliments, see?"

Tara gave an exasperated laugh and buried her face in her hands in an effort to hide how amused she really was.

"I'm _fine_. Long day at work."

"Are you sure you'll all be fine to hang out tomorrow night? You seem to work every day. Can't be healthy."

"Soon you'll know our pain," he snorted "Cat would never forgive us. Don't tell her I told you, but you actually got her excited for this costume thing. And have you ever known us to pass up a party?"

"Sleep all day, party all night!" Marko hollered from the other side of the speakers.

"Never grow old, never die," she heard Paul mutter wistfully to Cat from where they sat a few feet away.

"Sleep all day? Your bosses must love you," Tara snickered, shrugging off the motto – any kind of house motto she ever heard always was a little over the top.

What else would they choose? "Work as a mechanic, drink booze, eventually grow up and get a career"? It didn't quite have the same ring. Although she wondered if Cat's wrist tattoos with the Lost Boys' slogan would no longer suit her when she hit forty. She couldn't quite imagine the girl ever looking like a proper, "corporate" adult. As if to prove her point, Cat began to brandish a newly rolled joint above her head "My kingdom for a lighter, guys!"

What would push Cat to leave the cave, in the end? Tara wondered. Probably if she decided to have a kid with Paul. Or if they broke up. Somehow Tara didn't see that happening though.

"It's already our kingdom," David corrected his sister with a smirk, throwing one in her direction.

It certainly seemed to be. Tara couldn't ignore the relief that had settled through her that she now had something more secure than a place to stay and a job from a relative to keep her in Santa Carla. She was beginning to feel at home.

The night passed quickly and pleasantly, and she was disappointed when it began to reach around 2am and she knew she should leave soon – she didn't want to be exhausted during her first meeting with her potential boss and mentor. Her spirits were lifted, however, when Dwayne tugged on the sleeve of her sweater to catch her attention.

"So how 'bout we go really celebrate your new career?" his voice was soft and deep…and then he stepped back, tone lightening "Y'know, before it gets past my bedtime – I'm all old and exhausted, after all."

"I feel like a little trespassing," she said, feigning lightness as though there was no want building within her.

"Why not your place? We got away with it last time," he suggested "I don't really feel like getting caught with my ass out by some angry security guard."

Tara hesitated a little, but then her eyes met his and she shrugged – even if her aunt suspected, she was very liberal for a guardian.

As long as Tara didn't flaunt it obnoxiously and at least made the effort to be discreet, she doubted her aunt would be _too_ pissed if she heard anything suspicious "Fair point. C'mon."

* * *

Tara could barely remember the climb up to her room. One moment they were climbing off the bike, and the next they were inside and Dwayne's hands were on her. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders, she allowed him to pull back to tug her hoodie off, throwing it to the other side of the room, before doing the same with her sweater, leaving her in the tank top she had on underneath. He backed her up against her desk, and then lifted her up onto it, his hands under her thighs.

Tara jumped a little when he lifted her, flailing to shift her balance, sending her back knocking into a pile of books that she'd forgotten to put away. When the books were sent clattering down to the ground, Tara froze, planting a hand over Dwayne's mouth even though she was the one who was giggling. He mumbled something beneath her hand as she listened intently for movement next door.

"Huh?" she murmured absentmindedly.

He licked her hand and she stifled a yelp of surprise, yanking her hand away "I _said_ , I think we're good."

"Think you could've said it without drooling all over me, Hannibal Lecter?" she wiped her hand against his chest with a mock-grimace that she doubted he could see very well in the darkness.

"You're not into cannibalism?" he gave a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to her jawline, hands moving from her thighs to her hips and squeezing.

"Not today, nah," she relaxed again, slowly grinding her hips against his.

"Damn, had you pegged all wrong," one hand snaked up her back to pull on her hair, forcing her head back as his lips moved down her neck.

"Are you?" she kept up the jest, despite her words becoming breathier.

"Something like that."

Before she could come up with a witty response, Tara's bedroom door was swinging open and light was flooding the room. Dwayne, she thanked god for his quick reflexes, was an arm's length away from her in the blink of an eye, whilst Tara still fought confusion and her eyes' struggle to adjust to the light. No matter how much distance the Lost Boy put between the two of them, her brain was already registering that there was no way in hell it could look good. She still sat on her desk, dishevelled and likely reeking of alcohol, if not worse. The man she'd previously been in the pitch darkness in her bedroom with was also visibly flushed, and naked from the waist up without his jacket on. There was no bluffing through the situation, so she knew the best thing to do was to just be honest with her aunt. Except it wasn't her aunt standing in the doorway.

Dwayne looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment, as her apoplectic father's gaze darted between them, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Staring dumbly, Tara did nothing, as though if she stayed still, he would vanish and this would all be some terrible nightmare. Before any of them could do anything, a fourth party was barrelling into the room and towards her. Tara only just had the presence of mind to push herself from the desk and wrap her arms around her little sister as she hurled herself at her. Now she knew what the bad feeling had meant.

 **A/N: Quick note just because I know I mentioned ages in this chapter. At some point when I started the first fic I took the year the actors were born and subtracted it from the year the movie came out to work out the rough ages that the boys might've been when they were turned. I know it's suggested in the movie/novel adaptation that they're teenagers, but I really never saw it that way (it actually surprised me when I finally realised it was meant to be that way, years after falling in love with the movie) because they reaaaally don't look like teenagers…thankfully ;)**

 **So according to my notes, Dwayne would be 25, Paul 24, Marko 22, and David 21. They might be a little off depending on the actual months they were born, but like I said, rough estimate.**


	21. Chapter 20

**A/N: Yay for 20 chapters! And for our favourite movie turning 30! I was so determined to have this update finished in time for the movie's "birthday". Thank you so much to everybody for all of lovely supportive reviews, and for favourite-ing/following/actually being interested enough to keep up with the story despite the long breaks between chapters.**

 **I'm also thinking of posting an alternative ending to The Good, The Bad, and The Undead – I'll include details at the end for those who are interested.**

Time seemed to come to a standstill as they all stood silently in her bedroom in a vaguely triangular formation. It was like a goddamn Mexican stand-off; Tara by her desk with Emma in her arms, her father in the doorway giving her a look that would freeze a goddamn polar bear, and Dwayne by the window, looking more thoughtful than embarrassed. Tara stared at him in dismay, as though _he_ could fix the situation they'd found themselves in. Briefly, she wondered if her sister could feel how hard her heart was pounding.

"Oh jeez, didn't I tell you about Tara's new boyfriend?" Carolina came swanning into the room as if she hadn't noticed the tension "How are you sweetheart? You brought her home a little late, I think."

"Uh…Sorry," Dwayne played along slowly, maintaining a surprisingly straight face "Left my watch at home."

The Lost Boy seemed more bothered by being caught in the middle of the very complicated situation that was her home life, than by the livid gaze of her father. In fact, he returned her father's look coolly. If Tara wasn't so shell-shocked, she'd likely be impressed. Emma wiggled in her arms, turning to appraise the stranger shyly. Arms beginning to ache with the strain, Tara let the girl slide slowly from her grip, kneeling in front of her. She was very aware that her father still hadn't spoken. Emma was dressed in Disney princess pyjamas, her hair mussed from sleep as she beamed at her. If not for Dwayne's presence, Tara didn't doubt that the kid would be talking a mile a minute.

"What are you doing here?" she forced a smile onto her face as she smoothed her hair.

"She was dying to spend Halloween with you. We thought we'd pay a visit and surprise you, but you were…out," her father spoke for the first time, voice stony.

He thought he'd ambush her and catch her off guard, more like – and he'd done an outstanding job of it, too.

"They were _all_ out celebrating your daughter's latest achievement," Carolina defended, exasperation showing on her face.

Tara thanked every deity known to man for her aunt's existence. She doubted that her father would be more comforted to hear she'd spend the night with four guys (and one girl) rather than just one, but Carolina tactfully left that out.

"What achievement?" he looked unimpressed, turning his question to Tara as she stood, a hand remaining on her sister's shoulder in an attempt at comfort in the awful atmosphere.

"Dwayne, it's getting late. C'mon, I'll show you how awesome the _front_ door is," she switched her attention to Dwayne before the conversation could continue "We can, uh…get back to this when I return."

The relief was clear on the Lost Boy's face as he nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way before grabbing his jacket from the floor. Her father accepted this and moved aside but only enough so that she still had to shrink in on herself and duck past him in the doorway. Her "boyfriend" didn't bother, and she winced as she heard their shoulders connect. Although she was a little impressed that he still managed to have a slight swagger in his walk whilst shirtless. Maybe it was one of the rules of being a Lost Boy – "one must always strut". It wouldn't surprise her.

Silently, she led him through the apartment, then down the stairs and through the café below. Only when she unlocked the door did he speak up.

"You had no idea they were coming, huh?"

"The plan was that if Julian caught wind of something of the sort, he'd let me know. Of course, considering everything I can't really blame him for, well, not doing that."

He nodded as she opened the door and held it for him before he spoke up again, a little unsure this time "…You okay?"

Exhaling loudly through her nose, she carefully looked away.

"It's gonna be a long night," she settled for, already steeling herself for the battle ahead "Like I said…Consider me fully put in my place."

Dwayne hesitated for a moment before clapping a hand on her shoulder "You got us, doll. We'll swing by tomorrow – Cat'll probably be first but she's the cute, innocent one anyway."

As cute and innocent as a Lost Boy could be, at least. After what had just happened, it would be like trying to fix a pothole with duct tape.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she mustered a tight-lipped smile, patting his arm in return.

Once he was gone she closed and locked the door behind him before moving quietly to lean against one of the tables. She listened to the sound of Dwayne's bike departing, and took the time to mentally reassure herself that, realistically, there was little her father could do – especially not with Carolina backing her up; although she was sure she wasn't totally off the hook with her aunt. Luckily in the grand scheme of things, being on Tara's side against her father seemed to be higher on her list of priorities than giving her grief for finding bikers in her bedroom. Yeah, she was lucky to have her aunt. Only when she was sure that leaving things longer would make things worse, she returned to the apartment with dragging feet.

Emma was waiting for her in the doorway.

"Were you surprised?" she asked excitedly, shyness a thing of the past as she took her hand.

"Of course I was! You really got me!" she feigned delight, noticing that her dad and aunt hovering by the sofas "Hey, why don't we share my room tonight? Go get comfortable, pick any book you want from the bottom shelf and I'll be in soon, yeah?"

"Two minutes?"

When she registered the pure happiness emanating from her sister, Tara's smile became a little more genuine.

"Give me ten," she laughed, squeezing her hand before giving her a gentle push in the direction of her bedroom.

Her father waited until the door was closed and Tara had taken a seat in the armchair to begin his tirade.

"Is this what you think I let you come here to do? To sneak men into your aunt's home in the middle of the night? I didn't expect her to work miracles with you overnight, but _this_?"

It took more energy than she knew she had to not lash out at being referred to like some kind of faulty car. _Work miracles with her_? Tara's jaw clenched. She had not missed home.

"Dwayne shouldn't have been here," she raised her hands in surrender, speaking calmly and evenly "I got a job interview, kinda, and we were out celebrating – a big group of us. I got carried away. I'm sorry, Aunt Carolina."

Carolina shot Tara's father a pointed look, but he didn't defrost.

"What job interview? You already have a job."

"I can still work here on my days off-."

"I'm happy to have Tara here so long as _she_ wants to stay," Carolina interrupted "Even if she's not working for me, she's a great help around the apartment, and her jewellery has been a big hit in the café."

The phrasing was a little generous, but that didn't make Tara any less grateful. Not looking convinced, her dad at least deflated a little as he took a seat on the sofa.

"Where's the interview?"

Tensing, Tara hesitated. This part could easily undo all of their progress so far.

"The local tattoo parlour," she forced it out, gnawing on her lip as she stared at the carpet beneath her feet "I'll clean the shop, play admin, practise my art – in the end I could do really well. Tips, commissions for designs, hourly rates…"

He sighed loudly.

"And the boyfriend? You don't think that's a little fast?"

"Bit rich, coming from you," she stared him straight in the eye as she said it.

He stiffened visibly as one of her eyebrows twitched upwards of its own accord. She'd back off on a myriad of issues to save time and energy, but she wouldn't allow him to lecture her on relationships – fictional or otherwise. Carolina's brow furrowed as she looked between the two of them curiously. Much to her surprise he didn't begin yelling. Instead he became strangely still, regarding her expressionlessly.

"You go down this road, there's no going back. You'll no longer have a home with us in New York."

"Frank-," Carolina began, visibly shocked.

"Nothing new to me," Tara cut her off with a shrug, extinguishing any hurt with the reminder that she knew better than to expect more at this stage.

"Your sister will be waiting."

With that, she left them to their inevitable argument.

* * *

The others were still outside when Dwayne got back home.

"That didn't take long," Marko snorted upon noticing his arrival.

"Change of plans," Dwayne muttered grimly, taking a seat on the cooler "Her goddamn dad walked in on us."

The laughter that this revelation was met with was practically unparalleled, most of them doubling over with tears in their eyes. Even Dwayne had to admit that if it had happened to any of the others, he'd be laughing his ass off too. But now he had no way of poking around her room for that goddamn page for any of the foreseeable future. That was enough to take the humour out of the situation for him.

"I thought her dad lived in New York?" Cat was the first to recover enough to talk.

"Yeah, so did we," he muttered, running a hand over his face and accepting the beer that Paul offered.

His brother would've almost looked sympathetic, if not for the giant amused grin on his face.

"Seems like a real asshole," he continued "Dunno if she'll be hanging out with us tomorrow night."

"I'll put on my cute, cuddly human face early tomorrow and head over to find out," Cat shrugged "Bummer. I guess we could always postpone it? Have a late Halloween? I don't want to be the only idiot dressed up."

"Hey, you'll never be the only idiot," David teased, earning mock-offended looks from both Paul and Marko.

David had no idea how right he was, Dwayne thought with a humourless laugh "Well, watch out for the dad. Like I said – asshole."

"Why d'you think she's here?" David pointed out "Show me one person with a perfect life who found their way to us."

Dwayne glanced at Cat, who did a good job of pretending to be oblivious as she subconsciously leant into Paul for comfort. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Tara tried her best to quell the nerves building within her as she walked towards the tattoo parlour. She hadn't dressed up too much, simply plaiting her hair into a fishtail braid and dressing in a comfortable black dress, ripped rights, and combat boots. She brought her art along too, just in case.

The studio was almost empty as she walked in. The walls were painted a vivid lime green, which definitely would've been a bit much if not for the fact that they were mostly covered in photographs, artwork and mirrors. The man who she assumed was Jason sat at one of the chairs, shading what looked like a koi fish on who she recognised as a Surf Nazi.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I'm Tara, Carolina's niece," she greeted, offering a wave in place of shaking his hand, given his current task.

"Oh, great! Hey! I'm Jason. Take a seat and I'll be over in a sec."

Tara nodded with a smile, moving to the row of wooden chairs he'd gestured to.

He wiped at the customer's arm "I'll give you a break, man. Have a smoke if you want."

Jason was attractive, she noted objectively – not in the way that the Lost Boys were, where it just made them all the more intimidating, but in a way that was cute (as "cute" as a guy covered in tattoos could be) and made him all the more approachable. Removing the gloves, he threw them into a nearby bright yellow bin marked with a biohazard symbol before ruffling his dark brown faux-hawk as he took her in.

"Never realised my intern was the Lost Boys' latest prospect," he commented lightly, pulling a stool over to sit opposite her.

"Prospect? No!" she snorted, shaking her head "Cat showed me around when I first got here, and now we hang out from time to time…Definitely not one of them, though."

She ignored the slightly begrudged feeling that hit her at the admittance.

"Oh, my bad," he shrugged "Cat's a cool chick, I've done some work for her. Some touch-ups, too; her ink fades real fast – not too uncommon."

"Is all of this your art?" she gestured to the walls.

"More or less, yeah," he nodded, looking around before turning back to her with an amused look "Do I have your approval?"

It had a very classic style – lots of pin-up style women glancing over their shoulders suggestively or sticking their asses out, mostly in sepia colours but with splashes of vivid blues, reds and greens to give life to the designs.

"It's awesome," she admitted honestly, hoping she didn't sound like a kiss ass.

Giving her a cheeky grin in thanks, he pushed his thick framed glasses up his nose and lifted her portfolio from where it had been resting against her chair.

"You're from New York, right? I head over there a few times a year to work – I've got friends with studios all over. Travelling's a perk of the job for me," he made conversation as he leafed through her portfolio to refresh his memory "You got any tattoos?"

"Not yet."

"Well you gotta work on yourself before I'll even let you go near anybody else with a needle," he shrugged "So you have to be cool with that changing sometime soon. Not for a while yet, though."

"I'm more than fine with that," she nodded with a smile "So does that mean I've got the job?"

"Honestly, the only critiques I have on your work is on making your shading pop, which is easily fixed. Your ideas are original, you've clearly spent a tonne of time on your art, and you're dedicated….Plus, I haven't exactly got a line of applicants out the door."

Tara did her best not to gape under the praise that he gave her so matter-of-factly. It was one thing to be praised by her aunt, or her friends telling her that her "shit" was "cool", but a whole other thing to have somebody with any amount of professional authority saying the same.

"When do you want me to start?" she accepted the portfolio back from him, hugging it to her tightly if only to stop herself from jumping around in excitement "Thank you so much, man."

"Don't worry about it. How about Monday, eight am? Enjoy Halloween, it'll be your last weekend of freedom before I'm bossing you around – oh, and I'm open to bribery and ass-kissing, just so you know."

"Good to know," she grinned goofily and shook the hand he offered.

* * *

Paul roused almost as soon as Cat began to try and untangle her limbs from his. Noticing he was awake, Cat settled back down. She'd wanted to avoid waking him, but now that she had, she didn't see the harm in spending a few moments with him before she rose.

"Time's it?" he asked, voice gravelly from sleep.

"Sixish," she replied softly "I'm gonna go to Tee's and see what's happening tonight. Even if she can't hang, I kept my costume at her place because I knew you'd find it otherwise."

"Heh, true," he tightened the arm that was wrapped around her back as she began to trace light circles on his chest with her fingertips.

"Well even if we have a late Halloween, I think I still want to dress up tonight. Most of the boardwalk will too, so I'll hardly be the only one," she admitted "She actually got me excited for the whole thing."

"You're not the only one she's gettin' excited by the looks of things," he snorted.

"He _was_ acting weird last night, wasn't he?" she commented, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him from under her lashes.

"If it was anyone else I'd say it was a bad case of blue balls," he snickered "But Dwayne's damn near unflappable. Somethin's up."

"And the only thing that's changed around here lately is…"

"Yup."

"Well. Shit," she murmured lightly "You think he's caught feelings?"

"Hope not – for his sake," he sighed thoughtfully, hand travelling upwards to twirl lock of her hair around his index finger.

"Oooh ouch," Cat teased "I'm hurt."

"We had a get outta jail free card," he snorted "If we didn't have this bond… _thing_ , it would've been different."

She'd be dead for starters, Cat thought to herself somewhat detachedly as she remembered her first ever encounter with the Lost Boys. She'd had no idea at the time, but she'd only been inches away from becoming their latest meal.

"Thought he was smarter than that, though," Paul's comment drew her from her memories.

"The heart wants what it wants," she rested her cheek against his chest again.

"Ain't his heart he's thinking with."

"Hell, in another world _I_ wouldn't kick her out of bed," Cat joked "Do you-."

"Shh, wait, just let me savour that mental image for a sec, babe," he interrupted.

"Pervert," she replied fondly, laughing when he made a sound of agreement "But do you really think that's what's bothering him?"

"What else could it be?" Paul shrugged as best he could whilst lying down "…But babe?"

"Hmm?" she perked up, surprised by the genuine turn his tone had taken.

"I know you two are close, n' you talk about a lot of shit, but this is one thing you should leave be with him," he admitted hesitantly.

"Think I'll spook him?" she asked curiously.

"I don't even think _he's_ realised he's in deep shit yet," Paul sighed "When he does, it won't be pretty. Any of us putting our two cents in will just fuck it up even worse. Y'know back before I turned you, they all had a pact to not try to nudge you in any direction in case it made things go to shit?"

"It doesn't surprise me," she murmured "I know we joked about him liking her, but I never thought he actually would go down that rabbit hole. I was excited when I found out she was gonna be around for a while, but this? I don't think there's any way this ends well. Maybe I should never have made friends with her."

"Maybe," he replied simply "S'done now, though."

Cat loved that about Paul – his honesty. Sure, he comforted her when she needed it, but one thing he very rarely did was sugar-coat things, or mask his feelings for her own ease. She'd much rather that than somebody who told her whatever they thought she wanted to hear at the time. It was a quality all of the Lost Boys shared, come to think of it. Having a strict "no bullshit" policy made for an easier life, because it dispelled any worries that one of them might be keeping something major from the others. Of course, that only meant that on the rare occasion that somebody did deceive the others, it was ten times worse. Hell, after Cat had smuggled her brother out of Santa Carla, she'd been worried that David would throw her out on her ass because of it.

"Well, I won't mention anything to him. Promise," she spoke eventually before making an effort to lighten the mood "You sure you're not going to dress up tonight?"

"I'm going as a sexy beast," a crooked grin spread across his features.

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Cat shifted so that they were face to face and kissed him slowly. Only when she pulled away a little did she reply, a playful smile on her lips.

"And is Marko okay with you dressing up as him?"

Paul's response was to jab his fingers at her rips, causing Cat to shriek and writhe away, legs tangled in the blankets and worries pushed to the back of her mind.

 **A/N: This was going to be waaaay longer, but it's already a decent length and I didn't want to put off updating much longer.**

 **So, with the alternative ending idea, back when I was writing the first story I basically had a choice between two options when it came to finding a way for Cat to stay in Santa Carla. I went with the more dramatic of the two, because plot, and it also made more sense to me in terms of loose ends being tied up. The alternative would have been to have her leave at the end of her holiday, with her friends alive, and then return to Santa Carla later and reunite with the Lost Boys later down the line. I've already been writing it for fun, so it's just a matter of if you guys want to read it. Right now I'm unsure if I'd post it on the story itself, or over on Eternal – but let me know if you'd want to read it!**


	22. Chapter 21

**A/N: A longish one - laying down some groundwork, some tooth-rotting fluff and then a little of the inevitable. As always, thank you all for the lovely reviews! Especially to the guest who said they read the whole thing in one sitting; your review honestly made me smile like a dork when I read it, I'm extremely flattered that you found it so entertaining! I know I say it a lot, but the reviews are hugely motivating so please keep them coming.**

 **A slight unrelated side note - before the year is out I'll have my fifth tattoo, and it'll be a Lost Boys one, because I don't know how to casually enjoy things without dedicating limbs to them.**

Cat looked different. Younger. Like all of her "rough edges" had been smoothed out overnight; no traces of dark make-up – or any makeup at all for that matter, her usual teased, messy hair pulled into a neat high ponytail, and her usual dress style abandoned for a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a grey sweater, without a rip, band logo or stud in sight.

"You should see your face," she teased quietly "This is 'low-key Catriona', as I used to call her. Perfect for classes and being seen by irate parents."

She shot an amused glance into the cafe behind Tara, where she knew her father was.

"Well it's nice to meet her," Tara grinned, hoping she didn't look too relieved at the fact that Cat had toned it down a little.

"I look about twelve," she replied with a shrug "I just came over to see if you still want to hang out tonight. Obviously it's cool if you don't – we'll have a Halloween 2.0 or something later. A sequel."

"Of course I can!" Tara immediately stopped her "It just…might be a little late."

"As long as it's not past our bedtime," she teased, leaning against the doorframe "What's up?"

"Oh it's just Emma's here, and she wants me to take her trick-or-treating. I figure that isn't really your scene," she explained apologetically.

"I wouldn't know, I've never been," she shrugged before her face softened a little "It's awesome you get to spend time with your family, though. Seriously, I'm happy for you."

"I'm sorry, what?" Tara blinked in surprise "You've never been trick or treating?"

"We were the assholes who turned the lights off on Halloween night and ignored the doorbell when it rang back home," she explained "Mum loved Christmas, but that was just about the only holiday we bothered with. My Halloween was house parties and holding back So- uh, some girl's hair while she puked into a bin."

"You should come," Tara was making the offer before she really realised it.

"...What?" Cat's eyebrows shot up.

"Come ooon - if only for the experience," the more she considered it, the more she was excited by the idea "You only live once!"

One corner of Cat's lips twitched upwards, but she continued to hesitate "I don't know...I feel like I'd be encroaching on some valuable sister bonding time."

"Not at all!" Tara argued "She's shy at first, but back home she loved hanging with me and my friends. Makes her feel like one of the big girls. If anything, you'd be providing more entertainment for her."

"That's what I'm here for - entertaining kids and placating parents," she replied lightly, but doubt was still written on her face.

"Listen, tag along at first and if it's not your scene you can take off, no hard feelings, and I'll come find you guys after Emma's gone to bed," she offered.

"And you promise you'll tell me to bugger off if I'm intruding?"

"You have my word."

Her bedroom had been a bomb site of papers - research, drafts and everything in between - so she'd quickly gathered all of them together and pushed them to a corner of her desk, resolving to sort through them once her life had calmed down a little.

Emma took to Cat surprisingly quickly, and had gone from shyly hovering in Tara's bedroom doorway to sitting on the corner of the double bed, legs crossed, watching them as they got ready and happily nattering away. Tara suspected her sister's approval of the Brit had been sealed when she produced a red lipstick and offered to apply it for her to complete her Snow White costume.

"You know I had _my_ sixth birthday at Disneyland Paris," Cat confided in Emma while leafing through some old reference photos for her own make-up "And I begged my mum to buy me a Snow White dress from one of the gift shops - even though Belle was always my favourite."

"Did she get you it?" Emma tilted her head, proudly smoothing out her dress for the umpteenth time.

"Yep - I lived in it for the entire holiday," Cat paused mid-application of an eyebrow before snickering "And I've considered myself a queen ever since, too. But anyways, it wasn't as pretty as yours obviously."

Their costumes had turned out well in the end. Cat's had begun as a pink silk shift, but with a second, sheer white lace, dress dismantled and sewn over the top, you'd have never known - especially with some extra sprucing up, thanks to rhinestones, pearls and a hot glue gun.

"This feels like the opposite of how I should be doing my make-up," the Brit commented with a grimace as she finished the eyebrow.

"It looks good," Tara placated "Accurate. You been practising?"

"Once or twice, on the rare occasions Paul turned in before me."

In all honesty, Tara had been surprised at just how seriously Cat had taken the historical accuracy of her costume. After the Lost Girl's initial reluctance to even dress up in the first place, she thought she'd be lucky if she could force her into a generic store bought costume - a "sexy witch", a "sexy cat" or, shit, a "sexy zombie" or whatever. Such were the choices the boardwalk offered for those unwilling to DIY their own stuff. Not that she wasn't pleased at the outcome; she knew it wouldn't be half as fun if Cat hadn't become as enthusiastic as she had, and Tara was grateful for it. The part that baffled her a little was how much of it seemed to be for Paul. It wasn't the gesture itself that confused her, for it wasn't uncommon for girls to dress up for their boyfriends. Hell, one of her old friends' kids had been conceived while said friend was dressed as Catwoman, and her boyfriend as Zorro.

What confused her was the choice of costume itself. If she'd gone for something along the lines of Harley Quinn Tara wouldn't had batted an eyelid, but a 1920s flapper? It was pretty specific. Tara couldn't picture Paul being much of a history buff, but the painstaking lengths Cat had gone through to be as historically accurate as she could with the resources she had suggested otherwise. In the end Tara chose not to voice her confusion. There would be no way to voice it that wouldn't come across as at least a little condescending towards Paul, which she couldn't see ending well.

If anything, the attention that Cat sought to pay to detail made Tara grateful for how much creative liberty she had with her own costume. In the end she'd drawn most of her inspiration from the movie Bram Stoker's Dracula, her dress having an almost Greek goddess vibe to it. Mainly because it was easiest to make and just involved a lot of draping fabric and then the sewing of gold accents. If not for the fake fangs she was planning to attach to her canines, along with the lines of fake blood she'd painted, streaming from the right corner of her mouth and all the way down her neck, it wouldn't have even been clear that she was trying to look like a vampire.

Soon all that remained was their hair. Shorter styles had been very much the fashion in the 20s, but Cat wasn't quite willing to chop her hair for the sake of one night, so she'd devised a way of pinning her hair to give it the appearance of looking shorter, and then put on a sequinned white headband with a rather ostentatious feathered brooch on the left side. Tara settled for curling her hair and piling it onto the top of her head, leaving her dark locks to spill down rather dramatically. Emma was easier, happy with her red bowed headband.

It was only when Carolina came to retrieve Emma under the guise of giving her a bowl of ice cream that they could get down to some real "girl talk" whilst they helped each other carry out their plans for their hair.

"And you're sure the boys will want to come trick or treating?" Tara asked skeptically, looking at Cat in the mirror as she curled her hair for her.

"Paul will," Cat shrugged "He finds his own fun in anything. Dwayne probably will, seeing as you're going to be there."

Tara carefully ignored the knowing look she received from Cat at that remark. She was still reluctant to encounter Dwayne again after the previous night's events.

"I'm guessing you heard about last night," she snorted, embarrassment returning as she remembered.

"Oh we all did," Cat gave a sympathetic smile that wasn't completely devoid of amusement "Are you alright? I hear it's unhealthy to just stop in the middle like that."

"Did _your_ parents ever walk in on you with a guy?" Tara groaned in a way of an answer.

"Ha - before Paul there was never anything to walk in on."

" _What_?!" Tara's reaction was so violent that Cat almost burned her hand on the curling iron, jumping back with a curse "Shit, sorry, sorry! But I mean _come on_. You can't be serious!"

"I didn't realise I gave off a serious 'maneater' vibe," Cat quirked a brow in a manner that David would have been proud of, but there was no trace of real offence on her face - just amusement.

"You don't, not at all," Tara shook her head, settling back down in her seat as Cat picked out another section of hair "But...Nobody?! Nobody at all? _Nothing_ at all?!"

"I had one, rather terrible, kiss and a few awkward first dates, but that was it. Then Paul came along...My _first and last and always_ , in the words of the Sisters of Mercy. He likes to say he taught me everything I know," she gave a small, fond smile at the thought of the Lost Boy's antics "Of course, he doesn't mention the fact that he nearly let me 'lose it' to Bon Jovi, of all bands. Not even a good old staple like Led Zeppelin."

Cat made a noise of mock-disgust at the indignity, but Tara was still too stunned to laugh.

"I can't believe he's the only guy you've ever liked," Tara blinked at her in disbelief.

"Well I had little crushes, of course, but then I'd get to know them and I always caught the ick really fast."

"You caught the what?"

"The ick. You must know what I mean. You meet a guy, find him pretty attractive, like him...and it's like a switch goes off, the attraction disappears, and suddenly you don't want anything to do with him. The flirting goes from making you blush to making your skin crawl, and you just want them _gone_. There doesn't even have to be anything glaringly wrong to put you off, you just...catch the ick."

Julian's face sprang to mind, and Tara's lips thinned as she realised she knew exactly what Cat was talking about. She nodded and Cat continued.

"Well, before I got here I had the chronic ick."

"Aww, and Paul 'cured' you?"

"Please never put it like that again, I'll vomit everywhere and never speak to you again."

"You must've gotten along amazingly well from the outset," Tara commented thoughtfully, still surprised.

"We had...a very tumultuous beginning," Cat shrugged absentmindedly, grabbing a can of hairspray "But it always felt ten times more natural than anything in the past, and now everything is perfect. I can count the amount of proper fights we've had on one hand."

Tara's mouth opened and then closed again, the Lost Girl too preoccupied with memory lane to notice. They'd had a rough beginning, and yet Cat had given up everything for him? Even knowing her tendency to quickly lose all attraction to a guy? The horrible and now all too familiar sickly cold feeling that welled in her stomach every time Tara's disapproval of the girl's past actions clashed with her affection for the actual person standing before her now surfaced again. She watched the girl in the mirror, biting her lip thoughtfully.

* * *

The Lost Boys were waiting in the cafe by the time they'd finished getting ready. Tara wasn't surprised to see they hadn't dressed up - although Paul was wearing a tuxedo printed t-shirt, under his actual tuxedo jacket. If not for the fact that her father had already seen Dwayne the night before, she would have attempted to simmer down his looks of disapproval by passing off their dress as some kind of Halloween biker costume. Instead she just pretended he wasn't there, and forced herself not to give a shit. After all, what did his approval matter anymore?

Emma, taken by the prospect of her newest friend, had insisted on holding Cat's hand as they descended the stairs, but as they entered the cafe itself and she noticed the newest group of strangers she reverted to 'shy mode'. Quickly, she let go of Cat and moved to huddle behind Tara, peeking at the Lost Boys curiously. For her part, Tara chose to linger by the counter, allowing the gang to decide how they'd spend the evening without her and her sister hovering nearby.

Paul, unsurprisingly, hadn't expected his girlfriend to appear alongside a little girl, so his gaze was drawn there first, brow furrowing a little. When Emma let go of Cat, though, his attention travelled to his girlfriend. Tara didn't doubt that Cat had more than gotten the reaction she'd wanted. At first his face went blank as he took a moment to register her costume, then he did a double take and his eyes widened almost comically. Then came the grin - like a kid opening his presents on Christmas morning.

The Lost Boys shared an amused, knowing look between themselves, one of David's eyebrows twitching upwards as though he was a little impressed, but unsurprised.

"You like it?" Cat asked somewhat redundantly, considering Paul's reaction.

"Do I like it?" Paul echoed, sliding from the booth and holding her at an arm's length to inspect the costume "Shit, babe, I-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, Cat sent a pointed look in Emma's direction "There are little ones around!"

Her sheepishness did nothing to hide the delight on her face.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you later," he pulled her to him so he could kiss her, and then pulled back to add "Or, y'know, show you."

" _Stop_!" She protested, but the effect was lost when paired with the way she was giggling.

Cat then grinned and dropped into a squat, one hand holding Paul's in order to keep her balance, the other giving a 'come hither' motion in Emma's direction. Shyly, her sister skirted up to the couple, sticking close to Cat's side and staring up at Paul who returned her look with a surprisingly heartwarming smile.

Lifting up the girl, Cat nodded to Paul "This is Paul."

"Your highness," he gave a mock bow, and Tara watched as the beginnings of a smile formed on Emma's face.

"Now do you think you can do me a big favour tonight?" Cat asked seriously.

Emma looked thoughtful before nodding.

"Paul here likes to misbehave. In fact, all of them do."

The boys had the good grace to look equal parts guilty and mischievous, like schoolboys in detention. It was a look which wasn't entirely unsuitable on them, and Tara found herself holding back a laugh. Carolina seemed equally impressed, but her father chose to witness the spectacle with an unreadable expression.

"So I need your help keeping an eye on them for tonight - and if anybody stops acting like a big boy you let me know, okay?" she spoke conspiratorially.

It was easy to see how the girl had been on her way to becoming a teacher. The initial wariness she seemed to have around people didn't carry over to children. Tara was grateful for how smoothly she handled the situation, in all honesty. Back home her friends were okay with Emma, but they mostly tolerated her presence when she was around. Because of how young she was, she was more of a momentary amusement than a person. People always underestimated kids. Had the Lost Boys responded to Emma in the same way as Tara's friends back in New York, she doubted the girl would've even been able to look at them for at least the next hour.

"Okay," Emma nodded eventually, losing a little of her shyness.

Although that didn't stop her from rushing back to Tara's side when Cat put her back down. She could hardly blame her sister for being shy around the Lost Boys - Tara herself had been. What did surprise her was how good the boys were with the girl. Paul and Marko were, for the most part, big kids themselves, so that wasn't too much of a shocker and Emma took to them quickly. Dwayne and David, however, she took a little longer to warm to. Dwayne because he was simply intimidating to look at and David because, well, he was David. She had a sneaking suspicion that most world leaders would squirm under his scrutiny.

What was a shocker was how good _all_ of them were with the kid. Sure, they were hardly the types to run up, pinch her cheeks and tell her how adorable she was, but it was obvious that they enjoyed having a kid around to lighten the mood. Not that they really needed much help with that.

* * *

What followed was quite possibly one of the tamest evenings Tara had ever experienced with the Lost Boys. In the end they'd all agreed to go trick or treating. Paul was still delighted by Cat's attire for the night, she suspected David and Marko were reluctant to go off and find their own fun, and Dwayne...Well. She didn't want to consider why Dwayne might have said yes, what with Cat's earlier comments. After all, by saying no surely he would have freed up the night for David and Marko too? Wouldn't that have made more sense? She knew that they boys could make fun out of anything, but she highly doubted trick-or-treating was their idea of a stellar night. Still, they seemed to enjoy themselves, at least. Within a couple of hours, they'd found themselves back on the beach, with the boys having gone ahead of Cat, Tara and Emma to "acquire" a bonfire out of sight of the youngest of their group.

When they'd originally settled down, Emma had chosen to sit next to Cat and Paul, shyness long gone and demanding more old Scottish folk tales that the Lost Girl had alluded to knowing earlier in the evening. Confident that her sister would be fine, Tara parked herself down in the space beside Dwayne, close enough to see Emma, but far enough away that she could talk freely with Dwayne without worrying that the child would overhear something she was better off not knowing about.

"Nice costume," Dwayne commented, giving her attire a once over "You look good."

Her costume had been a great source of amusement for the Lost Boys, and she was still at a loss as to why.

"I've been waiting for you to compliment it all night," she sniffed in mock-offence "I like yours, too. Nice change to see you without a shirt on."

"Like you mind," he chuckled at her sarcasm and she shot him a fake-fanged grin in return.

Glancing at him, she opened her mouth to talk again but stopped when she noticed the thoughtful, slightly sad, look on his face. How unlike him. Following his gaze, she realised that he was looking at Cat and Paul across the fire. It was moments like these that made her want to laugh at whatever suspicions she harboured about the couple having some sort of hidden dark side to their relationship. The sight of them was almost enough to make her reconsider her aversion to relationships in general.

Emma had drifted off amid the third of fourth story, lying curled up in the sand with her head in Cat's lap as the Lost Girl gently combed her fingers through her hair, eyes glazed over. Clearly she was miles away. For his part, Paul appeared a little more present but no less content, his head bobbing to the music as he smoked a cigarette - deliberately turning his head every so often to blow the smoke away from the two girls at his side. Cat leaned heavily against him, his jacket around her shoulders and arm around her waist, turning her head every so often to murmur words that Tara couldn't make out. The scene warmed Tara's heart, completed by the music drifting over from the next bonfire down the beach a ways.

" _You in the moonlight, with your sleepy eyes, could you ever love a man like me?_ "

Paul's chest heaved visibly as he sighed, tilting his head so it rested atop Cat's.

When Tara finally looked away, she was surprised to see that the entirety of the gang had turned their attention to their "siblings", but didn't seem quite as warmed by the picture they painted. If it were only David's somewhat cold expression she would have shrugged it off, but even the usual cheery Marko was frowning, a sympathetic grimace on his lips. It was unlike any of them to look to grim, and all at once? It was making her antsy.

"What's wrong?" she asked Dwayne quietly.

"Goddamn modern day tragedy," David spoke through the cigarette between his lips, the topic of their conversation blissfully unaware of the scrutiny being placed on them.

Hesitating, Dwayne's eyes darted between the couple, then to David, then met her own.

"Uh-"

"Nothing. Forget about it," David cut in, sending his brother a pointed look "I need a damn drink."

Shifting uncomfortably, Tara watched the blond leave and then glanced at Marko who was now too engrossed in rolling a cigarette to pay them much mind.

"What is it?" she asked again, some of her frustration showing through.

She'd mostly grown to quietly accept the moments with the group that reminded her that she was an outsider amongst their little family, but the longer she spent with them, and the closer she got, the harder it was to not get a little irked. Tara felt like she had a right to be, too. Dwayne gave her a searching look before glancing back at Paul and Cat. They were still in their own little world.

" _First time I saw you, I knew with you to light my nights, somehow I would get by,_ " Stevie Nicks' _Leather and Lace_ continued to drift over.

Cat turned her head to look up at Paul, pure affection shining in her eyes. Feeling her move, Paul looked down at her before giving a smirk - although with a fraction of the amount of attitude one usually held - and leaning down give her a soft peck on the lips. Afterwards the Lot Girl snuggled against him more closely, her eyelids fluttering in an attempt to remain open. Dwayne visibly hesitated again.

"Oh come on," Tara sighed.

How much of her life had she welcomed them into, and how many times had they declined to turn the favour? It was starting to feel personal.

Dwayne's lips thinned, he shifted and then made sure Marko wasn't covertly trying to listen in on what they were saying.

"Cat n' Paul, they…" he leaned in closer, lowering his voice but keeping his face impressively straight "They can't have kids."

"What?" her eyes widened, that having been the last thing she expected Dwayne to say.

Marko jumped a little at her exclamation "Shit, man. Everything alright over there?"

"Sorry," Tara smiled sheepishly "Thought there was a spider on me."

Marko looked like he wasn't sure whether to be sceptical or amused, but before he settled on one, Dwayne was moving.

Sighing, Dwayne sat up "Let's go for a walk."

Tara hesitated, looking towards Emma who still slept soundly with Cat.

"I do just mean a walk," humour crept into his voice "We won't be long, doll."

Paul looked over to them as they stood, Dwayne motioning that they'd be gone for five minutes and receiving a nod of agreement. Tara smiled in thanks, hoping what Dwayne had just told her wasn't showing on her face. They angled their walk in the direction of the ocean as they walked, Tara holding her skirts up and out of the way of the waves lapping at her bare feet, and Dwayne puffing on a cigarette. She appreciated them going drug and mostly alcohol free while Emma was around, she had to admit.

"Paul likes kids, sure, but I don't think he ever put much thought into the whole deal," he explained without prompting once they were several feet away "But...Well, you've seen how Cat is with your sister. Girl'd be a great mom. It cut her up real bad."

"Ah fuck," Tara groaned, guilt pooling in her chest "I asked her if she thought they'd have kids some day."

Wincing, he slung an arm around her shoulder "She wouldn't hold it against you."

"I still feel like a grade A asshole," she snorted before shaking her head "I've never wanted any of my own little bastards, but shit...I can't imagine."

"Yeah, well just don't bring it up. Sore topic, kinda."

"Of course I won't."

"Just felt like something that needed saying - If I actually thought you would, I wouldn't have told you," he reassured, squeezing her shoulder "Speaking of grade A assholes, how did things pan out last night? With your dad?"

"The usual. I'm ruining my life, whoring around with bikers in my spare time - and in my aunt's home, no less," she rattled off, counting each point on her fingers "Oh, and in accepting this apprenticeship - which I got, by the way - I'm more or less dead to him."

"Congrats, doll," he smiled, nodding in approval.

"On pretty much officially being an orphan?" She didn't attempt to mask her amusement.

Giving her a look that screamed 'oh please', he shook his head "If I thought you were fazed, we'd be having a different conversation right now."

"Oooh, so now you _know_ me," she teased.

"You think I don't?" He gave her an unapologetically smug look.

At first she wanted to shoot back some kind of witty response, but found none to give. Dwayne _did_ always seem to know what to say or do in order to achieve being one of the very few people that didn't grate on her nerves after long periods of time...Or to make her feel better...Or to just make her happy, really. For a moment, she almost smiled and leaned into him, but then Tara's heart sank and she nearly stopped dead. _That_ little train of thought could hardly be blamed on drugs, alcohol, or a half-conscious state. She barely even noticed the way the silence had started to turn awkward until he spoke up again.

"So this job, huh?"

"Yeah," she nodded, hands twisting in her costume as she did her best to drive the thoughts from her head "I'm excited. I did a few internships back home, but when it came to bumping me up to a full blown apprenticeship - and giving me the pay that came with it - there was always somebody better. More experienced, more qualified...related to the owner. They just wanted somebody to do the bitch work for free, mostly."

"Doesn't seem very you."

"Another way I wound up here," she replied, suddenly very aware of the arm around her shoulders.

"We both know you stick around for me," he joked, but given the thoughts racing through her mind it was all she could do to laugh weakly.

"In truth, I'm using you to get to David," she shrugged.

"Shit, best warn Cat then - she's doing the same with Paul."

"And she hasn't managed it in three years? Damn. Maybe I'll move onto Marko instead."

"Three years?" He snorted, frowning in confusion.

"Well, yeah...That's how long they've been together - her and Paul."

"Huh?... _Oh,_ yeah. I guess they have."

Tara bit her lip at that. The way he'd just spoken - the ' _Oh_ '. To her, that was the universal sound of a person remembering they had to cover for somebody. Or just that they needed to lie, really. How many times had she heard it back when her mom was still around, and her dad was lying to her through his teeth daily? Dwayne might have found her easy to read, but she liked to think he wasn't a complete mystery to her now, either. At least not like he had been in the beginning. Well enough to know if she was being bullshitted.

...But why would he lie? There was no reason to lie about how long Cat and Paul had been together. None. It was infinitely more likely that he'd just lost track of time when it came to how long the two had been together. It wasn't his relationship, after all. Was it just her brain overreacting? Going into meltdown mode? Probably. But still, the unsettled feeling, combined with the realisation that she'd gone and done the last goddamn thing she'd wanted to do in Santa Carla (with a _Lost Boy_ , no less) was enough to put a major downer on the night. The plan had always been to only get involved with people she could happily drop entirely from her life at a moment's notice and not give a damn (which was more common for her than she liked to admit), but the thought of doing that to Dwayne made her stomach turn. It didn't help that she knew doing so would lose her new friends, too. Not that she thought they'd be horrible to her, but she knew it would be too awkward - for her alone, if nobody else.

They'd know damn well why she'd done it, too. Maybe not all of them, but Dwayne definitely would, along with David. Probably Cat...Shit, even Marko and Paul were a lot smarter than they let show most of the time. She couldn't bear the looks that the revelation would bring. What other reason could she give, though? That she wasn't enjoying it? He'd damn well know that was a lie. Deep down she knew she'd be able to be honest with him and get nothing but kindness in response, but that wouldn't make it any less horrifying.

And that didn't mean she wouldn't miss him.

"We should, uh, we should get back. It's getting late, I need to get Emma to bed," she felt sick.

"You planning on staying gone?" he seemed surprised.

She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. She wanted to run home, curl up in her bed and stay there until somebody developed a way to go back in time, so she could tell her past self not to be dumb enough to think she could screw around with Dwayne without getting at least a little fond of him. The alternative option was to kick his ass there and then for being so goddamn _good_ and likeable, but given his size she didn't think that'd pan out well. But by the look he was giving her now, he suspected something was up. If she ran away with her tail between her legs, she'd just deepen any suspicions.

"No, no - just give me an hour."

"We'll be here," he stated the obvious with a shrug, arm falling from her shoulders.

She couldn't settle on whether she was disappointed or relieved at that. The best she could do at this point was hope - or, hell, pray - that she'd come to her senses, and soon.

 **A/N: This night in the story was originally going to be one big chapter, and it's turned into what's probably going to be three - this being the second. Go figure. But I'm assuming you guys would rather have slightly faster updates than a huge one once in a blue moon - because it would be at least another week or two if I just kept going instead of posting this as is. Next one should be drama-ridden, if my plan for the story works out in action. I edited this one no less than five times, but I'm really tired so I'm sorry if there's some kind of silly mistake that I missed, but I can't bear to go through it for a sixth time. I hope you guys enjoyed!**


	23. Chapter 22

"Well," Paul sighed jokingly not long after Tara had left, taking the kid with her "You sorry bastards are boring the shit outta me. C'mon babe, let's go."

"Love you too, brother," David responded to Paul's antics while Marko blew him a mocking kiss.

"Of course, it's got nothing to do with the sheer hardship of having to keep it PG with your girl all night, despite your little blast from the past," Dwayne smirked knowingly.

"Ha, _hard_ ship," Marko snickered.

"Go where?" Cat cut in, knowing that if she didn't, this could and would go on for hours "The night is young."

"But your boyfriend ain't. Probably dying to have his fun before he gets too worn out - or puts out a hip," Marko, as usual, seemed unwilling to allow the chance to be a wind-up merchant pass him by.

"Gotta age to get old, asshole," Paul pointed out, but the grin on his face showed how much he was enjoying their bickering.

"Nah, you're old."

"Well if I'm old, so are you."

"Naaaah."

"How exactly does that one work, bud?"

"'Cause I said so, that's how, _pal_."

The mischievous smirk on Marko's face made it clear that he was gearing up for the long haul.

"Oh, please Wendy, won't you be our mother?" David quipped, leaning over to mutter to Cat as they watched the spectacle.

"Sorry darling, but in a game of 'who's your daddy', you win every time," she snorted, grinning.

For the first time in a while, she felt truly content. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere. She hadn't thought it possible, but Paul's mood had been even cheerier than usual following her surprise and it ended up being infectious. It was a gorgeous night, too (although in her opinion, the weather in California was always fantastic - no matter how much she missed the rain and gloom of Scotland at times), with the stars seeming brights than usual and the next bonfire over's surprisingly good music taste mingling with the carnival music that she now firmly associated with the feeling of being at home.

"Dunno if I'd call it a win," David chuckled, but with no conviction.

"Paul, the question?" Cat interrupted them again in hopes of getting things back on topic.

"Huh?" The hurling of insults paused as Paul seemed to remember how it had initially started "Oh - a bite to eat, then home...then bed."

The final clarification wasn't needed, and the shit-eating smile on his face told her he knew that full well.

"A bite to eat, or a _bite_ to eat?" She raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

"Touché. Well in that case, we'll see you guys later," she rose, brushing sand from her dress as she did.

"Hope to god by 'later' you mean 'tomorrow'," Dwayne snorted.

"Well we're gonna be _real_ busy til then so-"

"Time to go," Cat cut her boyfriend off loudly, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of his bike.

With a snicker, Paul complied and matched her pace easily (damn him and his long legs), a distinct spring in his step.

"Remember the days when the details of our sex life weren't thrown around every two minutes?" She sighed in mock-nostalgia.

"Uh...no?" He gave her a crooked grin.

"...Good point," she laughed, shaking her head.

Back when they first got together, Paul's inherent need to brag had often caused her a great deal of embarrassment. Now she shrugged it off as a typical guy thing, only occasionally mockingly scolding him. After all, she'd rather that than there being nothing to brag about in the first place - and after hearing so many of her brothers' 'war stories', she secretly figured it was only fair they got a taste of their own medicine. And anyway, he knew where to draw the line between typical macho bragging and divulging too much information - trust was hardly an issue.

The one issue they encountered when it came to feeding separately from the guys on the occasions that they did was finding a small enough group. Sure, they had strength and speed on their side, but Cat still didn't relish the idea of taking on a group of burly dudes twice her size, three to one. Luckily, that night it wasn't an option.

After riding around through the woods for a while they sped past a pair of Surf Nazis, leaning against a broken down, garishly blue, Audi. When they sneered and flipped off the couple as they sped past on the bike, it just sealed the deal. Paul kept driving until their future meal wouldn't be able to hear him cut the bike's engine, and pretty soon they were in the trees above the two.

"Fuckin' joke, man. Nobody ever comes through here - we should'a asked those two assholes for help," one grunted.

"The day I ask a goddamn Lost Boy for help is the day I die," the other one sneered.

Cat held back a snort.

"Any preference?" Paul asked quietly, already visibly antsy.

"I haven't had brunette in a while," she murmured in mock thoughtfulness, sharing in his anticipation "But...Nah. Play it by ear?"

"Sounds good to me."

"These guys are fighters. They won't make it easy," she pointed out brightly.

"No, they won't," he shot her a grin full of devilment and they pushed themselves forward, off of their respective perches.

* * *

In reality, Emma had been far too tired for any kind of bedtime story - something Tara had known when she'd asked the Lost Boys to give her an hour or so. That time was for her to clear her head. It seemed to take everything the kid had to keep her eyes open as Tara helped her change into pyjamas, wiped the remnants of the lipstick from her face, and helped her settle into bed.

"Goodnight baby," she murmured, kissing her forehead and smiling when she wrinkled her nose when the butterfly earring she still wore dangled down and tickled her face.

"Is that mommy's?" She asked quietly, one small hand coming up to graze the earring.

"Uh-huh. You didn't lose yours, did you?"

Emma wasn't particularly careless, but she was still a six year old.

"No," she murmured "Alison said I'm not allowed to wear it anymore."

Tara stopped, the issue with Dwayne instantly becoming the least of her worries "She _what_?"

The words came out harsher than she intended, and she gave a sigh of relief when Emma didn't start.

"What did she say, sweetie?" She tried again, softer and sweeter.

"That I shouldn't think about ghosts," Emma replied in a small voice.

Tara was grateful that her sister was fighting a losing battle against sleep - it meant she wasn't aware of the grimace on her face. It was the most she could do to school her expression from showing pure, white hot rage.

"Mom isn't a ghost, alright?" She leaned in close "She's an angel, and she's watching over you, and that means you get to think about her as much as you want. If Alison tries to stop you, y'know what you tell her?"

Tara had never been any kind of religious. She found religion interesting from an objective point of view - the mythology, the imagery - but that had always been it. But if spouting bullshit about angels meant that her sister wouldn't be scared of the memory of their dead mother, she'd do it all damn day.

"Hmm?"

"You tell her to go fuck herself."

That advice would more than likely come back to bite her in the ass if Emma followed it, but Tara was seeing red. In any case, she was about to cause a much bigger stir. Once sure that the kid was asleep, she turned on her small desk lamp for her and quietly left the room. She had a bone to pick with her father.

She knew she must've looked comical, storming into her aunt's living room, skirts billowing around her, with a face like thunder. She also didn't care in the slightest.

"Did she have a good time?" Carolina asked when she spotted her, curled up in the recliner next to the sofa her dad sat on.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" she spat, rounding on him with her jaw clenched "A real. _Unimaginable_. Asshole."

Obviously they'd had more than their fair share of arguments in the past, but never like this. Usually Tara's approach was "calm and snarky" - if she yelled, he'd know he'd gotten a rise out of her. Because of this, unless things got _really_ explosive, she'd keep her voice nonchalant and was more or less just a sarcastic asshole. If she really wanted to piss him off, she'd either laugh at everything he said, every insult he hurled at her, or she'd give a sweet, over the top, fake smile while patronisingly agreeing with everything he said. Never did she yell. Not until tonight.

At first he stared at her, speechless, then he spluttered, then he very quickly turned an intense shade of scarlet.

"Excuse me, young lady-" he began, springing to his feet.

"No!" she interrupted "No, you're not excused. You _really_ let that uptight little bitch take mom's stuff from Em?"

When he realised what she was so angry about, he smiled humourlessly and sighed.

"You're putting morbid thoughts into her head," he began calmly "We-"

"Morbid? Fucking _morbid_?! Are you serious right now?" Tara raged "We're _remembering_ our goddamn _mother_. Shit, _dad_ , maybe that's difficult for you to grasp, seeing as you forgot all about her before she was even dead."

"What does she mean?" Carolina asked sharply, intervening for the first time.

"Are you gonna tell her or am I?" she gave a joyless grin, not looking to her aunt.

"Tara, you stop this right now," he demanded, anger and worry warring on his face.

"Tell me what?" Carolina's voice began to rise.

Staring her father dead in the eye, Tara's lips twisted into a smile and she began to talk.

* * *

She'd been driving Carolina's car around Santa Carla for what felt like hours, white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel only relieved when she lifted a hand every so often to furiously wipe the tears from her eyes. The radio only served to grate on her nerves, so she drove in silence. Well, mostly silence. Every so often she broke it to let a stream of obscenities spill from her lips. All things considered, it was a miracle she didn't crash. Not that she'd care if she did.

Once her fiery white-hot rage had reduced to embers, she pulled the car over and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, willing herself to stop crying. Only when she'd regained control over her breathing did she lean back, rolling down the windows to let the cool night air flow in. She wasn't ready to head back to Carolina's - that was completely out of the question for now. What she also knew was that she'd more than likely missed her window to catch the Lost Boys...But maybe they'd gone back home. She was sure she could find her way to the cave in the car - all she'd have to do was follow the coastline.

It was easier than she thought it would be to find the cave, but only Paul's bike was outside when she pulled up. That should've been her first clue to turn around. Of course, she didn't. Climbing out the car, Tara then carefully made her way down the stairs - which, of course, was easier said than done with the wind and her skirts. Once at the entrance of the cave, she did tried her best to be quiet. It didn't escape her that Paul's being the only bike there might've meant that he and Cat had opted to "leave the party early", and adding the embarrassment of walking in on them wasn't exactly something she wanted to add to the list of things that had gone horribly wrong that night.

Once at the mouth of the cave, she sat down and shimmied down the slope a little, just enough to allow her to see inside. Led Zeppelin's _Kashmir_ was blaring throughout the cave, making trying to keep quiet not too much of an issue. When she first heard the high-pitched whimper that could have only belonged to Cat over the heavy bass, she almost began to back up immediately. But then she spotted the couple, and instantly wished she hadn't.

Only one of the oil drums was lit, but this afforded her all of the light she needed. Paul had Cat pinned against one of the few clear spaces against the cave wall, one hand tangled in her hair that seemed to have long fallen out of its updo, and the other splayed out across one of her shoulders, holding her still as his thumb stroked the exposed column of her throat. He stared down at her like a predator sizing up its first meal after hibernation. Now this alone wouldn't have given her cause to worry. The fact that Cat was covered in blood? That did.

The Lost Girl's eyes were closed, stuck between Paul and the wall, her chest heaving with every breath. Only just managing to keep quiet, Tara desperately tried to search for a possible source of the blood. Cat's lower lip looked like it was split, but it was hard to tell with the amount of smeared across her lower face. Could she have coughed it up? There was also a nasty looking scratch across one of her collarbones where one strap of her dress had been torn, just centimetres below where Paul's hand was splayed.

Tara felt frozen, not helped by the way her blood seemed to turn cold in her veins. Backing up even more, her head low so she could still see into the cave, she did her best to take stock of Cat's state. Her face looked almost serene. Was she stoned? Tara had seen Cat shitfaced a countless amount of times, but she'd never quite look like these. She'd never been covered in fucking blood either, though.

What should she do? Fuck, what _could_ she do? Would she be able to take on Paul by herself? She doubted it. All of her darkest, most suspicious concerns about the couple that she'd only just managed to shrug off came flying back at breakneck speed. Just as her panic was reaching new heights, there was a loud ripping noise as Paul tore the other shoulder of the dress. As Tara quickly averted her eyes in an attempt to afford Cat some semblance of modesty whilst she wracked her brains for what to do, she heard something that - even amongst all of this - she wasn't expecting. Laughter.

Eyes glued back on the couple, she watched in disbelief as Paul began to laugh at the sight of the bandages that Cat had used to give herself the more boyish figure that was fashionable in the 20s. And then Cat joined in.

"What did you think I'd done? I'm not a bloody magician," she snickered, wriggling in his grasp "I can't believe you just ripped my dress, you asshole."

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you planning on wearing it again?" His eyes slowly trailed down over her figure, pausing at her chest, before continuing on to pointedly take in the previously white lace, which was now stained crimson.

"I could pull it off," she shrugged off his comment with a wolffish grin before bringing one thigh up to his hip as her hands slid his jacket from his shoulders, leaving streaks of blood on his arms.

"My job," he muttered, tone quickly becoming impatient as he pressed her tighter to the wall, hand sliding from her collarbone and down to her other thigh to wrap both of her legs around him.

Tara backed away, not wanting to see any more than she already had. After getting back to the car as quickly as she could without making too much noise, she sat dumbly in the driver's seat. She told herself that it was to make sure the couple was well and truly distracted before she started the engine, but in reality she wasn't sure she was truly capable of driving after that being added to the shitshow of a night she'd had.

There was rough sex and then there was...whatever the fuck she'd just witnessed. Forcing herself to breathe steadily with her face pressed against the driver's side window for the coolness the glass offered, Tara desperately tried to reason to herself. It was Halloween. The blood was likely fake, right? The Lost Boys getting a hold of a bottle of the stuff and dousing each other in it didn't seem too outlandish.

But what about Cat's injuries? Having a fake blood fight seemed likely, but where had those come from? Tara didn't remember seeing any kind of booth that offered that shit on the boardwalk - and even if there had been, sure, Cat had a sense of whimsy about her, but sitting around while that crap was painted on? It all seemed very unlikely.

If there was one thing she knew for certain - and that this point she felt like there was _only_ one thingshe knew for certain - it was that she was sick of having to sit and come up with reasonable explanations for the Lost Boys' behaviour that she only half-believed herself. Or forcing herself to ignore it when their own explanations didn't sit well with her.

An eerie sense of blankness overcame her as she drove back to the boardwalk. She'd had every intention of returning to Carolina's and sitting on the fire escape, watching the sky and admiring the stars she'd never been able to see back home until dawn. Half way into her zombie-like walk from where Carolina parked her car to the cafe, however, somebody caught a firm grasp of her arm. Spinning around immediately, she was stunned to see Dwayne there, eyebrow quirked in amusement at her reaction. But when she didn't smile and she didn't greet him, and he had a chance to take in the redness around her eyes and the grey tone of her skin, his jaw went slack.

"Shit, Tara, what happened?" He stared at her in astonishment.

"Uh…" she murmured, staring up at him dumbly.

The concern on his face was perhaps the most genuine emotion she'd seen on the face of a Lost Boy since Cat's mom had died, and when he unquestioningly pulled her to him and hugged her tightly, the show of real warmth jolted her from her numbness, all thoughts of what she'd witnessed in the cave fleeing her mind in favour of what had drove her there in the first place.

"I fucked up Dwayne, I really fucked up. I lost it," she tried to say it calmly, but her voice cracked and her face crumpled "I lost my shit, and now he won't let me see Emma anymore."


	24. Chapter 23

**A/N: For those of you who are interested in excuses - writing romance isn't appealing when you're trying to get a nightmare of a guy out of your life, and writing in general is even less appealing when the depression hits hard not long after. But it's over for now and I'm back!...And I bought the Lost Boys OST on vinyl to cheer myself up because what are "unhealthy coping mechanisms"?**

 **I'm not gonna promise faster updates, but I am trying - every day I don't update is a day I'm staring at a draft and trying not to tear my hair out.**

"And then he left? Just like that?" Dwayne blinked in astonishment.

After Tara found him on the boardwalk, he left to make some excuses to his brothers before joining her on the fire escape outside her bedroom window. She'd long since stopped crying, thankfully.

"Scooped Emma out of bed and took off," she sighed.

"Shit," he muttered, slipping a cigarette between his lips and lighting it "Poor kid."

"Yeah," Tara plucked the cigarette from between his lips and took a long draw before returning it "I should've kept my damn mouth shut."

"That wouldn't have helped anyone in the long run, doll."

Exhaling the smoke through her nose, Tara said nothing. She knew he was right, of course, but that offered little comfort.

"How did this happen?" She sighed "Within hours I went from having an amazing night to...to having nobody."

"I saw the way that kid looked at you. She won't take being kept away from you lying down. Soon as she can, she'll come to you," he reassured.

"And how long will that be? Six year olds can't exactly catch a greyhound out to California," she muttered, taking another long drag from the cigarette before placing it back between his lips "What do I do til then?"

"You stop acting like you're not one of the most resilient chicks on the planet, is what you do," he smirked at her, casually taking her hand in his free one "And stop kidding yourself that you have nobody."

"Carolina signed on to have me for, what, a year? Maybe two at absolute most? She didn't agree to basically adopt me. Now she's saddled with me," Tara snorted, leaning her head back against her window "Don't wanna make it even worse by appointing her as my damn therapist."

"Oh c'mon, she looks at you like you're her own kid. She might not be, uh, fond of me though," a small self-satisfied smile stretched across his lips as his thumb brushed back and forth across her knuckles "Anyway, not just her. You got Cat."

Tara shifted uncomfortably, the mention of the Lost Girl bringing forth memories from earlier in the night. Dwayne seemed to pick up on this, raising an eyebrow as his thumb stilled.

"Cat's got enough on her plate lately - her mom and all that. She doesn't need my family drama on top of it all," she explained, shaking her head.

"Touché," he agreed, absentmindedly turning her hand over his fingertips now tracing patterns on her palm "Well y'know there's me too."

Unsure whether it was the sentiment itself or the fact that he'd actually voiced it that surprised her, she blinked, straightening up and staring at him, taken aback. After holding her gaze for a moment he chuckled, shaking his head as he smoked the last of the cigarette before throwing the butt off of the fire escape.

"Shit, don't look so surprised. I really had to say it?"

"Maybe I had to hear it, I dunno," she mumbled, a little lost for words.

The whole turn the conversation had taken was making her uncomfortable. Tara wasn't a talker - not when it came to letting people know how she felt about them. She let it show through actions, and left them to work it out for themselves. Or if she didn't want to work it out, she hid it damn well. But that was the thing about Dwayne; he always seemed to see right through her. Given how many revelations she'd had that night, all of which she wanted to keep from him, it was making her very nervous. Normally she'd be able to keep her cool easily, but the night's events had left her exhausted and more than a little emotionally drained. Every little thing - every action, every emotion, every thought - felt amplified.

His expression was thoughtful at her response, breaking eye contact as one hand held hers in place whilst the middle finger of the other traced circles over the pulse point in her wrist. She couldn't help but notice how close their faces were. When he met her gaze again, she waited for him to speak. Instead, he kissed her.

At first shock and irritation coursed through her. He really thought _now_ was the time to initiate sex? But then the hands that would begin to wander to her chest travelled upwards instead, to the side of her face and weaving into her hair, holding her close, and Tara realised it wasn't _that_ kind of kiss. For a split second he stilled, worried by her non-reaction, before her brain kicked into gear and she gripped the collar of his jacket to pull herself closer to him, despite the awkward angle, and returned the kiss.

Making a low noise at the back of his throat, Dwayne hauled her into his lap without partng their lips. Goosebumps rose on her skin as one hand gripped onto his shoulder for stability and the other absentmindedly curled into his hair. They'd broken a lot of her usual "rules" when it came to keeping things casual. They hung out _a lot_ , there was no lack of casual physical contact between them outside of the bedroom, and definitely no lack of flirting...but this? This wasn't a minor slip - this was a glaring breach. One that she couldn't bring herself to care about at all...Until they parted.

As if she'd been burned, Tara scrambled back to where she'd initially been sitting, movements awkward and clumsy in her costume. Neither of them spoke, eyeing the other warily, a big red smudge of fake blood now on Dwayne's chin. If her heart hadn't been pounding so, she might've laughed.

"I...shouldn't have done that," he sighed after a moment.

"Just what every girl dreams of hearing after being kissed," she made a feeble attempt to joke.

Dwayne closed his eyes and sighed "It's not like that, Tara. We - the Lost Boys, I mean - we don't _do_ long term. We don't do serious. Almost as a rule."

On any other night, she'd have played it cool. She'd have laughed it off, said that suited her just fine and maybe even teased him for getting himself so worked up at her reaction. But this wasn't any other night. Tonight she didn't even have a fraction of the grip on her emotions that it would've taken to pull that off.

"Are you kidding me?" she raised an eyebrow with an exasperated laugh "Forty percent of your group is made up of a couple. Unless you're telling me that Cat n' Paul, who consider themselves married, aren't serious."

"That was different," he shook his head, unrelenting "Cat was...well, she was special."

It would have been difficult not to take offense to that, even had she been in a decent frame of mind. So Cat was special. What did that make Tara?

"Oh."

"Not like that!" he groaned "Jesus Christ...she was a special _case_. Mitigating circumstances, y'know?"

"And at what point in your life are you gonna stop letting rules made up by your gang dictate your life?"

The words slipped out before she could fully stop them, and she was too tired to consider the consequences - or to care about them. After all, how much worse could things get? She'd lost her sister, any small amount of trust she'd begun to establish with the Lost Boys, and now she'd well and truly made a fool of herself in front of Dwayne.

"If you think we're just a gang, then you don't know us," he said sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're a family," she muttered sourly.

One who quite possibly sat by as their "brother" abused their "sister".

"Why're you being like this?" he frowned, any hesitance seeming to slip away at her attitude "Weren't you the one who made it damn clear from the very beginning that anything serious is the last thing you want?"

"It is!" she protested defensively, arms curling around herself.

"Well you're giving me whiplash here, doll, because that's not how it looks from where I'm sitting."

As if to try to soften the blow of his words, he reached out for her hand again but she pulled back.

"Then I suggest you change seats," she sighed, shifting "Listen, it's been a long night. I'm tired, I'm feeling shitty. Don't listen to anything I've said. I'm gonna go to bed now."

She was already opening her bedroom window as she spoke, unable to even look at him until one of his hands wrapped around her wrist, stopping her movements.

"You're not gonna go in there and overthink all this shit, are you?" he asked, concern showing through his irritation.

"Not at all. I just...It's better to leave this as it is, don't you agree?" she asked softly, deflating a little.

He stared at her searchingly for a few more long moments before looking away and nodding.

"I'll see you…" he trailed off slightly.

"Whenever you next see me," she shrugged, looking away again as she slid her legs through the gap in the window "Got a long week ahead of me, might be a while."

"...Maybe that's a good thing," he sighed.

Biting her lip, Tara wasn't so sure she liked his brutal honesty anymore.

"Yeah," she eventually "Night, Dwayne."

He was climbing down the fire escape before she'd even fully shut her bedroom window. On autopilot she pottered around her bedroom, slipping out of the now grubby dress and leaving it where it pooled at her feet. Pulling on an old sweater over her underwear, she glanced at her bed before sighing and sitting at her desk. She'd only half lied to Dwayne. Although she had no intention to spend the night overthinking all that had happened (she valued her sanity far too much for that), she knew that if she tried to sleep now it'd be a waste of time. So she turned to the one thing that was guaranteed to calm her mind - her art.

Tucking her bare legs underneath her, she absentmindedly leafed through the pile of research and rough drafts she'd accumulated, waiting for something to jump out at her. Then one did, but not in the way she expected.

It was a missing person's report, but not a photocopy like the rest. This one had been torn directly from the paper. When had she done that? There was nothing in the pile that she wasn't sure she'd spent hours staring at. With a frown, she unfolded the paper and when she saw what it held her breath caught in her throat.

"What the fuck," she whispered, blood draining from her face.

'Special case', indeed.

 **A/N: It was going to be longer, with a scene in the cave, but adding much else just seemed to detract from what happened so far and a little tagged on.**

 **Novel update - ideally I really want my proper novel to be in a position to start sending to agents come April. In reality, given the** _ **joyful**_ **state of my mental health right now, I can't quite see that happening, but** _ **hopefully**_ **it'll be by the end of 2018 at the latest. I'm only on Chapter 3 right now, but circumstances changed and there's a lot more riding on it now, so hopefully that'll be some good motivation. That, and I have a very lovely mentor at uni who is honestly the best teacher I've ever had helping me work on it.**


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N: As always, you guys are unbelievably lovely in your reviews and I have no words for how grateful I am for it. Thank you! And also for your continued patience for these updates. I honestly don't intend to disappear for as long as I have been lately, my life is just a bit of a mess right now, to put it mildly, and taking up all of my energy right now - being in my final semester of my final year of uni and working on a novel (which I'll include an update about in an A/N at the end for the people who want to know). I'm also around ⅔ through writing the "alternative ending" for The Good, the Bad, and the Undead, which is being posted under Eternal.**

* * *

Cat was exhausted. Pressing her face against Paul's lap, she pulled her shawl tighter around herself and sighed softly.

"Don't tell me you're hungover," David snorted, tone laced with disappointment.

"Drained," she corrected, making no effort to open her eyes.

"Ironic, coming from a vampire."

Unwilling to muster the energy to respond, she settled for making a series of tired noses and snuggled further against Paul who absent-mindedly pulled her more tightly to him. In truth, her sudden change in attitude was a surprise to none of them and she knew it. It was like clockwork. With Halloween already having been a few weeks past, Santa Carla was now transitioning into "Christmas mode", and with Christmas came New Year, and with New Year came the sixth anniversary of her arrival in Santa Carla. Or was it the seventh? She was beginning to see how the boys had such a dire sense of time.

It wasn't so much regret she felt, as it was a sense of being torn. What happened was awful - horrific, even - but what and where it had gotten her meant she couldn't outright regret it, only feel an overwhelming sense of weary sadness over what had happened in general. She missed her family, but she adored her new one. She'd lost her home, but she knew that if she'd returned, she'd have missed Santa Carla for the rest of her life. The entire thing had just been...unfortunate. To say the least. It certainly didn't help that the anniversary coincided with the time of year most associated with family. Sure, it wasn't like she didn't have family in Santa Carla, but it would never be the same.

And so each winter, she'd gradually go through a period where she'd get a little quieter, and a little more tired - the emotional hangover never failing to return. The first time it happened the boys had been concerned, probably secretly worried that she was regressing or something, but after she'd reassured them that there was no secretly harboured resentment festering, they seemed to come to a silent consensus to leave her to it. There was nothing that could be said to fix it, and above all else Cat simply needed to think. If she wanted to talk, she would.

What made it worse this year was the news about her mum. Sure, at least Cat knew this meant her mum wouldn't be back home, upset over the absence of her daughter, but the idea of this being her first ever Christmas without her at all was inevitably going to be painful. And now Jamie would be alone. Not that they didn't have extended family, but the three of them had always been tight-knit. Now that didn't exist anymore, in any form other than letters and in boxes.

"Whose turn is it to go on a food run?" Paul spoke up, the hand on her hip squeezing for a moment.

"Sleeping beauty over there," Marko snorted.

"Fuck no," she mumbled simply.

"On account of what?"

"On account of the fact that I don't bloody well want to," she shot back, eyes remaining firmly shut.

" _Meow_ ," Marko grinned, unbothered by her grumpiness.

Cat stretched out languidly with a sigh, allowing the cool air of the cave to run through the gaps in her plaid and wake up a little.

"Someone needs to come with me," she conceded "With the amount you greedy bastards eat, I'll crash the damn bike if I try to carry it all myself."

"As long as you save the food, I don't mind," Marko teased.

Cat snorted at that, but didn't budge.

"I'll take that deal," Dwayne shrugged casually, grabbing his jacket as he rose.

"Dwayne, you're my favourite," she sighed sweetly, finally opening her eyes to bat her eyelashes at her brother.

As revenge, Paul gave her a playful shove, but underestimated both his strength and how precarious her balance was, lying on the edge of the sofa as she was. Completely gracelessly, she tumbled to the ground in a bundle of plaid and flailing limbs. The laughter in the cave was instantaneous. Even Cat couldn't help but join in, making no attempt to get up despite the way Paul's boots awkwardly dug into her ribs where she'd landed.

"You're all assholes," she groaned through grudging laughter, accepting the hand Paul offered to drag her back up onto the sofa.

This time she sat up, dragging a hand through her hair "Give Dwayne your orders while I go find some shoes."

"Might wanna find a hairbrush while you're at it," Paul tugged at her hair.

"Hi pot, meet kettle," she shot a pointed look towards his own unruly mane, ruffling it and shooting up before he could retaliate, beginning her search for her boots.

Within five minutes she was climbing onto her bike, side-by-side with Dwayne. When she didn't start her engine, he turned his head and gave her a curious look, only to be met with a knowing one in return.

"What's that look?" he tilted his head back with a sigh.

"I know why you agreed to help," she shrugged, zipping up her jacket.

"Because I'm a great brother to have?"

"Because you know exactly where I plan to get my food from."

"Didn't realise I was psychic," he replied simply.

"Knowing you, it wouldn't bloody surprise me," she snorted.

He allowed a half-grin at that, starting up his bike before she could give him any more of a hard time.

* * *

Clutching her sketchpad to her chest, Tara meandered down the boardwalk, her sweater tied around her waist, leaving her in a loose-fitting black spaghetti strapped dress over a pair of ripped fishnets . By California standards it was probably cold, but after living in New York she enjoyed the temperature here - although she wasn't sure she'd be able to say the same in mid-summer. Then again, who knew if she'd still be in Santa Carla by that time. There was a cool breeze wrapping itself around her and running through her hair. For a moment she paused, eyes fluttering shut as she tried to let it comfort her and calm her mind.

It had been a few weeks since she'd spent any significant amount of time with the Lost Boys - and longer since she'd shared any interaction more than eye contact with Dwayne - and they'd been a gruelling few weeks at that. The one thing she was grateful for was that her time at the tattoo studio had begun. If not for that she'd have crawled out of her skin long ago, but it kept both her mind and her hands occupied. Mostly. Tara suspected that the apocalypse itself wouldn't be able to keep her mind off of...well...whatever the fuck was going on with the Lost Boys, and Cat in particular. She still hadn't come to any kind of conclusion that didn't leave more questions than it answered. At least if she was thinking about the Lost Boys and whatever familial drama they might be enduring, she wasn't thinking of her own. The thought of her father still stirred unbelievable anger within her, only rivalled by the sadness that thinking of her sister brought on.

Ever since she'd found that missing persons page with Cat's face plastered on the front, her mind had been brimming with questions. Then the girl herself had shown up the next night with not a scratch or bruise on her, and the questions went from brimming to overflowing. All Tara could do was hope that at least one of those questions would be answered by the end of the night. If only for the sake of her goddamn sanity. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and began walking again. The sooner she got home and opened her mail, the sooner she might have her answers.

Santa Carla truly came to life at night. It made her walks home one of her favourite parts of the day. In daylight, the town was the domain of the real "grown-ups" and their kids - the ones young enough to still enjoy the company of her parents. But then the sun would set and the teens and young adults took over. The outcasts, potheads, party animals and eccentrics. She loved it.

"Look at _that_ ," a male voice spoke from somewhere behind her.

Of course, she could do without the Surf Nazis, but nothing was ever quite perfect. At first she paid the voice no mind but then it continued, louder this time and still very much right behind her.

"She's that one who was sniffin' around the Lost Boy," a second male voice.

Trying not to visibly react, she listened a little more closely now.

"What one?" the first replied.

"The ugly one," a third joined in now.

"Again, what one?"

They all laughed obnoxiously, and Tara hoped that it would be left at that - but again, nothing was ever quite perfect.

"Excuse me!" the first voice spoke up again, louder now.

Picking up her pace a little, she wished that she was closer to the cafe. But at least the boardwalk was crowded. She had to take her silver linings where she could.

"Hey, excuse me!" he sounded a little more impatient, and worse - closer.

Tara was used to catcalls and harassment. It came with the territory of living in New York. That, however, didn't mean she liked it, or that it ever failed to make her panic just a little. At least back home, they'd usually give up after being ignored the first or second time.

"Ugh, jeez," the voice muttered again before rough fingertips grabbed at her arm " _Hey_."

Spinning around impatiently, Tara jerked the entire side of her body away, pulling her arm from his grasp before grinding out a " _What_?"

The guy was a little older than her, and just as ugly as his two friends. What bothered her more than his face was the sleazy grin on it, though.

"Don't be like that, beautiful. Just sayin' hello," he made no attempt to disguise the way he eyed the neckline of her dress.

"Hello," she said simply, moving to walk away.

He wouldn't let her off that easy, it seemed, taking a step forward. Tara took one back to compensate, tensing as his friends chuckled. Was this how people who ended up on the wrong side of the Lost Boys felt? Somehow she couldn't picture the boys doing something like this, though. Not to an unwilling girl, at least.

"I just wanna talk," he raised his hands in a show of innocence and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes "The Lost Boys turned ya down, huh? Guess the girl they got is more than enough for them to share."

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Tara glared at the three before giving an annoyed sigh "Leave me alone."

Usually that was the most it took back home - if ignoring them didn't work. The harasser would act all offended, probably call her a bitch, and flounce off to nurse his ego. Good riddance. It seemed Santa Carla had a more stubborn breed of asshole. Once again he reached out for her arm, but this time he anticipated her pulling away and moved faster than she did, gripping tight.

"Fuck off, man," she tried to sound angry but instead sounded nervous, trying to yank herself from his grasp.

In doing so, the sketchpad slipped from her grasp and the loose sheets of paper that had been tucked inside scattered out around their feet. Perfect. Just. Fucking. Perfect. The assholes, being the assholes they were, began to laugh. A few heads around them turned a little, but the passers-by looked more interested in watching a potential scene unfold than they did in stepping in to help.

Jaw clenched, Tara sank to her knees and began to try to collect the papers as quickly as she could, shoving them into the sketchpad. That was, until a grimy black boot stood directly on the face of one of the portraits she'd recently finished. Looking up, Tara belatedly realised her face was perfect crotch level with Asshole #1.

"You look good like that," he smirked and she was torn between headbutting him directly in the balls, and bursting into a fit of angry, exhausted tears.

"What's going on, Tee?" a new voice joined the group.

After their last conversation, Tara never imagined she'd be quite so happy to hear Dwayne's voice. Turning her head, she was met with the sight of the Lost Boy, who hear heart raced at the sight of, as well as Cat. Dwayne appeared livid, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them, not even glancing at her as he spoke, but instead keeping his eyes trained on the Surf Nazi ringleader. Cat, however, was looking at her, a small sad frown on her face. Asshole #1 gave Dwayne an amused look before focusing his attention on Cat, who returned his gaze with an impassive look.

"Y'know, I never thought any of these bastards would love to ride anything more than their bikes before you came along, babe," he grinned at her and her lips thinned "I mean that's how you got in, right? All for one and one for all? Never took your _boys_ for communists but lookin' at you, I can see why the idea of equal distribution might be appealing."

His eyes roamed over Cat much in the same way they had roamed over Tara earlier, with Cat's nose wrinkling much in the same way. It was all said with the explicit intention of getting a rise, and when Dwayne's fingers twitched, Tara thought it had worked. What she didn't want was to be around to see the results. As he spoke, she continued collecting up the papers that weren't under his boot, wanting nothing more to get out of there.

"You should go," Dwayne said simply, seeming almost bored despite the look in his eyes.

If the other three Lost Boys had been there, she didn't doubt that things would have already gotten bloody. Or maybe Dwayne was just feeling generous that night. The Surf Nazis didn't seem eager to take the out they'd been offered, though.

"Hey," one of the other two spoke up for the first time now, his snickers giving away the fact that whatever was about to come out of his mouth couldn't be good as he addressed Cat "Do they pass you around or do you just let 'em at you all at once?"

At this point she wasn't sure what had the leader stepping back when the two Lost Boys reacted to this - the very decisive step that Dwayne took forward, or the knife that Cat began to pull from her jacket. That was, until a yell sounded from behind them.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Cat quickly pocketed the knife again, going from scowling to wide-eyed and innocent in the blink of an eye, while Dwayne just looked disappointed that their little encounter had finally drawn the attention of the law. A red faced security guard plodded over, looking furious.

"These men were harassing my friend, officer," Cat's voice sounded as innocent as her expression looked, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving the Surf Nazis a wary look that would've been convincing if Tara didn't know the girl better.

At first the boardwalk security guard looked sceptical - clearly he knew who the Lost Boys were, but when he took in Tara kneeling on the ground, dirtied papers in hand, he sighed. If she'd been relieved when the Lost Boys turned up, she was even more relieved now. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught up in some kind of gang bullshit. Especially now that she was more unsure than ever that she really knew who her supposed friends were. Lost in thought as she was, it took her a moment to realise she was too busy considering Dwayne to notice that the security guard was waiting for her input.

"I, uh," her voice sounded shakier than she wanted and she hated it "I was trying to walk home. They started to harass me."

After a split second she pointed to the Surf Nazis for good measure. The ringleader glared down at her but said nothing.

"You three. Off the boardwalk. Go. Now," the guard sighed like a harried schoolteacher.

Tara didn't go back to collecting her papers back together until the Surf Nazis had taken a few steps back, levelling the Lost Boys, and then herself, with glares before reluctantly turning and walking away. The guard then turned to Dwayne, and for a moment looked like he was going to kick them off too, until he glanced at Cat, who was a picture of shaken relief.

"You two are on your last warning - and that goes for your buddies too," he settled for, before giving Tara a nod and departing, dispersing any half-interested bystanders as he did so.

"I think that's our twentieth final warning since I got here," Cat sighed to Dwayne, dropping to her knees beside Tara to help her.

Dwayne stayed where he was, clearly unsure of how close he should get since their last encounter. Tearing her gaze from him, Tara reached out to accept the papers that Cat was holding and noticed how her hands shook just a little. Adrenaline? Or was it possible that the girl didn't relish in violence quite as much as she put on?

"Thanks," she breathed, rising with Cat.

"Any time," Dwayne spoke directly to her for the first time "Just try not to make it a common thing, yeah?"

"There goes my new hobby," she joked begrudgingly in an effort to relieve the tension.

In all honesty, she'd missed the company of the Lost Boys. They were incredibly easy to get along with - if they were in the mood to be so, of course. That small fact was easy to forget amidst all the suspicion, when their presence wasn't there to remind her.

"We'll walk you back," Cat said after looking between them for a few moments "We were headed to The Hideout anyway for some take-out."

There wasn't much further left to walk, and they made somewhat stilted small-talk about her new job as they did so, the way she'd been avoiding them very much the elephant in the room (or on the boardwalk, in this case). The relief she felt when they walked through the doors of the cafe was palpable, and she shot a smile at Carolina as she rounded the counter.

Cat made her order but Dwayne kept his gaze fixed on her, brow twitching in the threat of a frown.

"A package arrived for you this morning - it's on the counter upstairs," Carolina informed her as she passed on her way to the kitchen, and it took all of her acting prowess to hide her excitement.

That package would, hopefully, be the answer to all of her questions. Opening her mouth to wish a half-hearted farewell, Dwayne spoke before she could.

"You wanna hang out tonight - all of us, I mean. It's been a while," he sounded borderline accusatory.

Could she blame him? Probably not. After all, he didn't know that she'd found the page. As far as he was concerned, the entirety of her odd behaviour was down to that kiss. The kiss she refused to think about. And Cat? Well, it seemed that Cat knew nothing at all, if the mix of confusion and hurt on her face was anything to go by. From her perspective it probably seemed that she'd gotten a new job and promptly forgotten all about their friendship. On the bright side, this must've meant that Dwayne hadn't shared the story of what had happened with his "sister".

"I can't," she said simply, and then a begrudging kind of guilt struck her so she sighed, visibly relaxing a little "How about tomorrow? You guys free then?"

Dwayne looked surprised but relieved, while Cat looked delighted "Perfect. We'll swing by tomorrow night."

Giving Dwayne a soft look somewhere between forgiveness and surrender, Tara then turned and gave Cat the closest thing to a real smile she could muster. Of her many theories about what was going on, a lot involved the Brit being put in a difficult position by her boyfriend - if not all of the boys - and if any of those were true (no matter how much she hoped they weren't), Cat was the last person who deserved her ire.

With a parting nod, Tara turned towards the stairs to the apartment, hoping she didn't seem too eager to leave. At first she'd been nervous that maybe the package that had arrived would just be junkmail, or maybe a gift from a friend back in New York. That was doubtful, though, from how little she'd heard from most of them since royally pissing off her ex. In any case, when her eyes landed on the package - and the amount of stamps on the package - she didn't doubt what it was, and she quickly grabbed it before practically running to her bedroom.

Dropping her sketchpad and kicking her boots off, she immediately slumped onto her bed with the padded envelope, tearing at the seal. When she finally managed, pages upon pages of photocopied newspaper pages entitled _The Guardian_ spilled out. Jackpot. Grabbing the page dated most recently, a couple of years prior to be exact, Tara's eyes roamed over the headline in disbelief.

" _Local Police Abandon Search For Missing Girls_ " with the headline reading " _Authorities announced on Monday that they will no longer be looking into the disappearances of Catriona McKenzie (19), Sophie Wight (20), and Bryana Lieth (19), following a lack of viable information_ ".

It was amazing what information she could get her hands on from the press offices if she simply pretended to be a student, really. A sociology student, to be exact. All it had taken was an overseas phone-call and a promise to pay the postage herself.

When she'd found the page with Cat's face, she'd thought perhaps there'd been a mistake. Maybe it had gone out before she'd called her family to explain that she'd be staying in the States from now on? But this...This told her that wasn't the case. And where had she heard the name Sophie Wight before? Settling back, she turned the stack upside down, so that the earliest article would be on top, and prepared herself for a long night of reading.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't mean to leave off on another cliffhanger, but I wanted to update as soon as possible, given my absence, and to keep going until I could find another natural place to stop would mean to add at least another few thousand words, which means a longer wait.**

 **Regarding the novel - so my writing mentor is thrilled with my work so far, and seemed completely unsurprised when I said I plan to try and make a thing of my writing after graduating in summer (apparently I'm a "first rate writer and thinker" - I literally cried when I got that feedback from him) so everything is going well on the novel front, and I'm finally working through my creative blocks and making good progress with the prose writing.**

 **I've also started a "serious" writing blog (mostly creative non-fiction so far) this year on tumblr to document my progress, because it looks good to having something else to show agents when you submit your stuff to them (along with a submission I plan to make to the literature department's creative writing magazine), so if anybody is interested in the writing blog let me know and I'll PM you the username, seeing as how this site is iffy when it comes to links :) it's a sideblog, though, so I wouldn't be able to follow back via that blog.**


	26. Chapter 25

**A/N: I'm officially done with university! I now have a BA in Eng Lit & Creative Writing! Thank you guys so so much for your patience with these updates, it's officially taken me nearly twice as long to write half of this story as it took me to write the entirety of the last one, which I started before I'd even gotten into uni, so I'm delighted to be back (and completely sorry it's taken so long). Life/srs novel work update/rambles at the end, for those interested in explanations (*cough*excuses*cough*) for my absence. **

**Drama filled chapter ahead, which will hopefully make up for the wait. This is the chapter I've been struggling with the most both in planning and writing, so hopefully the updates will come easier and faster from here.**

* * *

The most painful part of consciously making an effort to act normal was that it was at that exact moment that Tara realised she had no idea how she usually behaved. Then the paranoia set in, and her mind began to whir. Was she laughing a little too hard at a joke? Or was she being too serious? How much eye contact did she usually make? If she looked them directly in the eyes for too long, would they figure everything out? It was far-fetched, but she wouldn't put it past David. Or Dwayne, for that matter.

In a sort of twisted turn of events, Tara found herself oddly grateful for their encounter on the fire escape. If she was acting weird, it would likely be chalked up to that. All she had to do was fish for information as little, and as delicately, as humanly possible.

What bothered her most was how much this sudden distance she found between her and them affected her. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sure, she enjoyed her time with them, but she'd intended for it to remain as simple as that. They were meant to be people to pass the time with as she found a way to turn her interests into a career. Now she was drowning in conspiracy theories and half truths - all while battling off budding feelings. She must've done something really shitty in a past life to deserve this.

The thing that gnawed at her the most was that, at the core of it all, she wished she could turn to Dwayne and discuss it all. To have him be a third party, giving insights that had a tendency to make him seem wise beyond his years. The Lost Boy in question had adopted a policy of following her lead. He made small-talk with her, along with a few jokes, but otherwise kept his distance. This left Tara to sit back and observe, as subtly as she could, all the while a small, uncontrollable voice in the back of her head debated back and forth whether the people around her seemed capable of kidnapping - or worse.

"Ah, Marko, you prick!"

Tara's head shot up at Cat's exclamation, as Marko managed to spill a great deal of his beer on her legs.

"Shit, sorry!" Marko didn't seem all that sorry, making no attempt to hide his laughter "Waste of good beer, that."

Cat didn't seem too bothered, snickering as she shook her head "You're an asshole. I'm gonna go wade this shit off."

"I'll join you," Tara hopped up, tugging her shorts higher up her legs.

"Careful you don't run into any sharks!" Marko teased, cracking up when his brothers practically yelled the first few notes of the Jaws theme.

Groaning, Cat marched towards the water, flipping them off as she did.

"What was that all about?" Tara asked as she caught up.

"When I first got here, I refused to get into the water at night - not like we can go in during the day because of, uh, work, y'know? But I wouldn't get in when we got back either, because you can't see shit below you. All I could do was visualise that damn Jaws poster - the one with the girl at the surface and the shark just below her feet? Anyway, after months of provoking and teasing, they finally convinced me to go for a swim at night."

"Oh god," she snorted, unable to imagine it ending well if the boys were involved.

"Exactly," Cat laughed "You know them so well. Marko swam underneath me and grabbed one of my legs. To say I lost my shit would put it mildly."

"He's charming like that, huh?"

"That's how he puts it. He at least waited for me to stop having a panic attack before he laughed - I don't think he'd expected _quite_ so much of a reaction. David, meanwhile, just about passed out from laughing the second I started screaming. I'm still trying to live it down."

"I'm surprised Paul didn't defend your honour."

"Well, this was the early days. He was still trying to play the gentleman, and did a gallant job of hiding his amusement until I started laughing. A _poor_ job - but still a gallant one."

Part of Tara regretted the mention of Paul immediately. It had slipped out, a consequence of finally managing to relax a little. But the topic of the Lost couple brought all of her worries forth once more, and she glanced back to the beach with a frown. The boys no longer paid them any mind, caught up in their own conversation. Could she risk doing a little fishing for information? She doubted they'd hear, but she knew there was no tactful way to ask Cat if she was safe with Paul. If the girl took it badly (which she was likely to), she'd raise her voice and they'd all be over in seconds to find out what was going on - more out of nosiness and a general love for mischief and conflict than protectiveness. The incident with the Surf Nazis the previous day had made it clear that Cat could handle herself.

No, this was a conversation to have with Cat, and Cat alone. Tara was fairly confident in her ability to backtrack out of any offense she might cause when it came to her. With the others? Well, she had no idea where she stood with Dwayne, but she knew her chances with his brothers were nil as far as bullshitting went.

As if sensing her attention on him, Dwayne turned his head and returned her gaze. One side of his mouth lifted into a half-smile - one that always seemed to have the power to both warm her heart and weaken her knees. Returning it with a strained smile of her own, she quickly did her best to turn her attention back to Cat...who had since fallen quiet, watching the entire exchange with a great deal of interest.

"D'you want to find somewhere quiet for a chat?" she asked knowingly.

* * *

The bar was dimly lit, reeked of cigarettes, and was about as quiet as a bar in Santa Carla would get on a weeknight, but they found an empty booth and slid into it with their drinks. Tara nursed her beer while Cat sipped at her vodka and coke.

"So is this the part where you tell me what's been going on with you?" Cat asked expectantly, voice tinged with humour.

It was funny - she could ask the Lost Girl the same question. But she wouldn't; not yet, anyway. This was one situation where Tara was prioritising playing her cards close to her chest above letting whatever she truly wanted to say in that moment escape from her lips.

Tara hesitated, then sighed "I've been that transparent, huh?"

"At first I thought you were just busy, but then I nearly suffocated in that weird atmosphere between you and my dearest darling brother last night," she quirked an eyebrow "Something happen there?"

Even the thought of having this conversation had Tara torn. On one hand, she desperately wanted to talk about what had happened. Sure, her focus had been taken up by trying to get to the bottom of the mystery of Cat, but that didn't mean she hadn't thought at all about the situation between her and Dwayne. She thought about it more than she wanted to. Usually when she was trying to get to sleep at night. Or when he gave her one of those damn smiles. Cat was the only person she could talk to about this specific problem - and she missed talking to her.

But this wasn't what she had wanted. This kind of thing was the reason she'd ended things with Julian, for christ's sake. The last place she'd ever wanted to find herself was in a bar, brooding over a boy and whether he liked her back or not. High school was over, damn it.

"We kissed. The night my dad took Emma away."

"I was under the impression you'd done a lot more than kissing," she snorted.

"No, I mean we just kissed. That's it."

"Ah."

Ah? That was it? _Ah_? Tara didn't know how to take Cat's reaction - but from the way she was shifting opposite her in the booth, a look of concern on her face, it seemed that Cat didn't quite know how to react in the first place.

"What, uh…." her brow furrowed before she made a visible effort to school her features to be unreadable "What happened next, then?"

Tara gave her a summary of the night's events, carefully leaving out her detour to the cave and any part it had played in her freak-out.

"You want my opinion?" Cat asked once she was done.

"Will I like it?" Tara asked, only half joking.

"You two need to talk. Whether you like the outcome or not, it's the only way you _get_ an outcome and escape this awkward purgatory that hurts to even witness."

Tara groaned, leaning back. The advice wasn't much of a shock, it was just something she wasn't thrilled to hear. Some of the genuine dread must've shown on her face, because Cat's face filled with sympathy.

"Listen, I get that the guys are assholes. It's one of the reasons I love them so much. But out of all of them, Dwayne is probably the biggest gentleman. Whatever's going on in his head, he won't be a dick about it."

"Yeah," Tara sighed.

A small, immature part of her had wanted Cat to reassure her that he was crazy about her, but she noticed that the Brit took care not to indicate what exactly Dwayne's feelings were. She wondered if that meant she didn't know - or if she did, but thought she wouldn't like to hear it. Was the sympathy on her face because of her dilemma, or because she thought her and Dwayne as an item was an impossibility?

"Is this all that's been bothering you?" Cat pressed, surprisingly serious "I was starting to think I'd pissed you off too for a minute there."

There was just the barest hint of accusation in her voice.

She had a knack for changing her tone from joking to 'cutting the bullshit' at the drop of a hat. It was disarming. She wondered if it was intentional, or just the way she was used to dealing with shit. Maybe that was what made the boys so well-knit. Then again, she could barely even imagine them having disagreements. They seemed too laidback for that. It was what the entire mystery so confusing - sure, they stood out, but in an oddly unassuming way. They seemed too busy having fun prodding at the rules to ever do anything truly sinister. Reluctantly, she forced herself to meet Cat's gaze. Her brows were furrowed, but the look in her eyes was one of hurt - more of a weary kind than an emotional one, though. It made her look older than she was.

"There's something I want to ask you, but there's no delicate way to do it," she had to force the words from her mouth.

"For the last time, I won't sleep with you," Cat replied, teasing grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

Part of her hoped that the dim lighting of the bar would protect her from Cat's scrutinising gaze - something she seemed to have learned from David. But when her responding laugh came out more nervous than she'd intended, Cat's smile fell.

"What is it?"

"Are you...okay?"

The question sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"I'm fine," she shrugged "Tough time of year, is all."

"I didn't mean homesickness or anything," Tara shook her head "It's...I…"

"Just ask, Tee," the corners of Cat's lips twitched upwards.

"Promise you won't get mad."

"I don't make promises I'm not sure I can keep," one eyebrow arched, the amusement draining from her face.

"I'm worried about you...and Paul," she remained on the lookout for any sign of a reaction that might confirm her worries.

Instead of forced laughter, panic, or any sign of anxiety, Cat looked genuinely stunned.

"Me and Paul?" She echoed, seeming to think she'd misheard.

Tara braced herself - she'd begun digging the hole, all she could really do was continue. Knowing there was no backing out actually lessened her nerves a little, and her bravery was bolstered by the chance (however small) that asking could potentially help Cat out of a dangerous situation, if her hunch was anywhere near the truth.

"Yeah," she admitted, voice more sure now.

"Why?" Cat blinked.

She was smiling, but there was a slight twist of her lips and quirk of her brow that made it seem more incredulous than amused.

"I've noticed some, well, red flags," Tara pressed "Cat, is he hurting you? Or...Or making you do anything you don't wanna do? Or even, fuck, I dunno, emotional or verbal stuff? Because that counts too, you know-."

To Tara's astonishment, Cat began to laugh. Like her smile, it held no amusement, instead just annoyance and disbelief.

"Tara, I live with the Lost Boys, and even I think that's a fucked up joke," she shook her head, taking a long drink from her glass.

"I'm not joking," Tara insisted "I'm serious!"

"Of course he doesn't hurt me! Jesus Christ, I don't think that man could raise a hand to me if he tried! How could you even think that of him? I know you two aren't the closest but...but... _Christ,_ Tee - and what, you think my brothers would just sit back and let that happen?" Cat was staring at her with a look that dangerously resembled outrage "What brought this on?"

Tara wanted to point out that they weren't her brothers - not really. But she didn't. She was fast realising that this wasn't the time; nor the place, judging by the amount of curious looks they were receiving because of Cat's heated words.

"Nothing," she said quickly "I was just...wondering."

It sounded absurd, even to her own ears, but she could barely hear herself think above the pounding of her heart. If Cat clocked just how suspicious she was becoming, the Lost Boys' secrets - whatever they may be - would quickly be secreted away in a goddamn nuke-proof safe and then she'd never know what was going on in this town. Or just how much of an idiot she'd been to get attached to Dwayne. No, Cat couldn't know what Tara had seen in the cave that night.

"You don't 'just wonder' if your friend's boyfriend likes to smack her around," she shot back, brow arched.

"Listen, it was dumb, just...forget I said anything, please?" She tried.

Cat stared at her long and hard, but she was either satisfied with what she saw, or she simply wanted to end the conversation, for a great deal of the tension left her posture.

"Fine. Let's go back to the guys."

The Lost Girl looked even more weary than before, draining the last of her drink before standing. They returned to the beach in awkward silence.

* * *

Within a half hour, Tara was walking home. With the newfound awkwardness between herself and Cat adding to what had already been a stressful situation, she hadn't been able to bring herself to stay for much longer than that. She took her time, using the cool night air to try to compose herself and gather her thoughts. Cat's reaction had been….Well. What else could she have expected? She'd have likely said worse herself, had anybody asked her if Julian had ever raised a hand to her - and she hardly had the feelings for him that Cat had for Paul.

If what she had seen in the cave that night had been all she had to go on, she would consider the matter settled. For, unless Cat was a liar of sociopathic proportions, she'd plainly been speaking truthfully when she said that Paul wasn't causing her harm. But none of that explained the articles. So what possibilities did that leave? Stockholm Syndrome? The Lost Boys having a knack for crime that the mafia would applaud? Her ponderings kept her occupied for the entire walk home, and so she moved mostly on autopilot, barely even aware of what she was doing as she went through the motions of locking the door to the store behind her before continuing up the stairs.

The apartment was empty that night, with Carolina and Johnny off to LA for the night, so she made no effort to be quiet as she moved through the apartment towards her bedroom. When she walked into her room, she allowed herself to relax for a split second, before her heart sank. Dwayne was sitting on her bed, her 'research' in hand.

At first she froze. Since she'd started collecting the articles, she'd become increasingly paranoid whenever she was going through them, worried that he'd turn up at her window at any given point and see her little collection. But when she blinked and he didn't disappear, she knew there was no backtracking out of this.

"This is why you've been avoiding us," he said flatly "You've been busy... _collecting intel_."

It wasn't a question, so she didn't answer. The last time she'd felt so caught out was back in high school, when her dad caught her sneaking one of his cigarettes. When he looked up from the articles, there was no trace of warmth in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice shook.

"Came to ask you what you'd done to piss off Cat. She didn't say anything, but it was damn obvious," he shook his head, dropping the papers in his hand and let them flutter to the floor "Hell, thought I could even try to talk out whatever issues _we_ were having."

He said the word 'we' as if it were a bad joke, a twisted mockery of a smile on his face.

"Who are you, Tara?" He asked.

"What?" She tried to make sense of the question.

Dwayne stood and the sheer size of him had her heart sinking almost as much as his glower. Her feet were so heavy it was like they were encased in concrete.

"I'll call on Carolina," she threatened.

After all, he didn't know she wasn't home.

"Her car ain't out back. She's not here."

Fuck.

"Did those Frog assholes send you to us? Some kind of undercover bullshit? That's why you were always at their store in the beginning, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I was at their comic book store to _buy comics_ ," She tried to sound forceful but truly just sounded scared "They didn't tell me shit. I found a missing persons ad with Cat's face on it on my goddamn floor. I thought...I thought maybe she was in danger from Paul. Hell, from all of you."

A series of emotions crossed his face - from anger, to dawning realisation, then something she couldn't place at all, before he finally schooled his expression into one of stony resignation.

"The Frogs know something, don't they?" She breathed "All that stuff you all told me about them...That was to keep me from hearing what they had to say."

She took a step back, in half a mind to run to their store then and there and pound the door down whether it was open or not until they gave her the answers that the Lost Boys were so unwilling to. Almost the exact moment she took the step, Dwayne was in front of her, grabbing her hands so she couldn't move, but not quite tight enough to hurt.

Her hands looked comically delicate in his, with her long slender fingers and glittery gold nails. It was no secret that Dwayne had the whole 'dangerous bad boy' thing going for him - she'd be lying if she tried to say that hadn't been part of the initial attraction. But now that danger felt all the more real, with the glare he was levelling at her. Like she'd just realised the snake curling its way around her leg was poisonous after all.

"You won't hurt me."

The words surprised even her when she said them, and she found herself holding her breath as she prayed her gamble would pay off. The last thing she needed was for him to take her words as a challenge. Deep down she was still clinging to the hope that beneath this mountain of bullshit, Dwayne was a good man. After what felt like hours of silence he sighed, dropped her hands, and took a step back.

"I won't," he agreed.

He seemed almost disappointed in himself for it. Before she could question it, he continued.

"You need to stop hanging around with us. Shit, leave Santa Carla if you can," he shook his head, looking incredibly weary "These aren't questions you want answers to, Tara. Leave it, or just... _leave_."

Instead of scaring her, as she was sure he had intended to, he only pissed her off. Anger sparking in her chest, she scowled at him.

"You are an _asshole_ , you know? I'm getting whiplash here, Dwayne, I really am. Like, maybe you guys should write me up a list of rules just so I really know where we all stand."

He looked like he was about to interrupt, but she held up a hand and raged on.

"Okay, so I can hang out with Cat...but I can't worry about Cat. Or really know anything about her. I can _fuck_ you, but god forbid I even ask about your life, nevermind-"

She caught herself just in time and sighed "I mean it, you know. I'll go hear what the Frog brothers have to say."

His glare held hesitation now. Just a hint, but it was there - and Tara clung to it firmly with both hands.

"Cat's fine. Paul'd never hurt her," he offered, but it wasn't enough at this point.

Not by half.

"If that's the case then why can't you tell me, Dwayne? Doesn't the fact that I've got all of this but haven't said a word to anybody say enough?" she gestured towards the articles "Just tell me what's going on here so I can stop feeling like I'm losing my goddamn mind. _Please._ "

Her voice almost cracked towards the end, and Tara looked away, furiously blinking tears of pure frustration out of her eyes.

"Give me forty-eight hours," his voice softened but she still refused to look at him "Let me talk to them, and then I can-"

"Come up with another convenient lie?" she challenged with a scoff.

All of her anger seemed to drain away, replaced by exhaustion. She felt his hawk-like gaze on her every movement as she walked to her bed and sat down with a sigh.

"This is what it's always going to be like, isn't it?" she sniffed.

He hovered where he was, saying nothing.

"I think I can count on someone and they go out of their way to prove me wrong. Who's next - Carolina?" there was no stopping the tears now that they'd started.

Tara rarely cried - and never in front of others. In truth, she preferred anger. She always had. Anger could be used productively, tears couldn't. Her mom had always handled her short temper well, insisting that anger always turned to sadness. What a bitch of a time for that theory to be proved right.

"That's not what this is," Dwayne sighed, sitting beside her.

"That's what it looks like. I'm sick of feeling like a fucking idiot for daring to trust somebody, or for _liking_ them, or- or-"

Whether it was the alcohol, all of the stress she'd been under over the last few weeks, or simply the dam breaking now that everything was out in the open, much to Tara's horror, she lost her fight against the tears.

As vehemently as she'd pursued any lead or slither of information on Cat's past that she could find, even she had known that much of that determination had simply been a productive way to channel her energy. Now that her short-lived career as an amateur detective was coming to an end, all that was left was a great deal of disappointment, and it stung badly. She could feel it physically, burrowing deeply into her chest. With her need for determination dwindling, and the fact that she knew her anger would do little to affect Dwayne, she could no longer avoid the sadness beneath it all.

Dwayne reached out a hand and place it gently on her shoulders. When she didn't tense or shrug him off, he surprised her by pulling her closer to him, practically into his lap. He smelled of the bonfire and whatever beer he'd been drinking - it wasn't unpleasant. It was also the first small amount of comfort she'd been able to find in a long time, and so she couldn't help but relax against him, pressing her face into his jacket. The smell of the bonfire and the ocean air lingered around him, and was more comforting than she'd ever admit.

Once she'd calmed enough to catch her breath, she squeezed wiped at her eyes before turning her face to his. In the dim lighting his eyes seemed almost black, boring into her with an intensity that almost had her struggling to catch her breath all over again.

"Can I trust you?" She regretted it almost as soon as she asked, but she had to know.

He hesitated before finally nodding "Yeah. You can."

"But you won't trust me."

"It's not like that."

"Whatever this secret is, I'll take it to my fucking grave, Dwayne. I swear."

He growled at that, grip tightening on her "Don't make promises you don't understand."

"Is it...is it why you say you can't date?" The more questions she asked, the more brazen her questions became.

His eyes lowered to her lips for a split second before he sighed and nodded.

"So tell me."

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

Their exchange was speeding up now, almost bickering if not for the serious nature.

"Because I can't!"

"Please. Just trust me."

"I do!"

"But you won't tell me."

"I told you I can't."

"But why not?!"

"Because we're vampires!" The words seemed to explode from him, and they shook Tara's world to its very core.

* * *

 **A/N: Well it took 25 chapters, but the cat's out of the bag. I wasn't intending to end the chapter there, but if I added the rest it would have taken another week or so to finish. But because this is a cliffhanger I do feel a little guilty about, anybody who reviews (off anon, because I need to be able to reply) will be sent a sort of preview/paragraph from the next chapter. I already have nearly 1k words of the next chapter written, and I know exactly what's gonna happen, so it shouldn't take long for me to get it posted - especially seeing as I don't have classes anymore.**

 **In terms of a general update, I'm in the process of moving my writing blog from tumblr to Wordpress - it's the same username, new domain, so if I gave you the name of the old one and you still wanna keep tabs on it, just search for the same name but on Wordpress. If you don't have the name and want it, feel free to PM me/say so if you leave a review! There's not much on there yet, but that's another thing I can now take time to work on.**

 **So it's been a crazy few months (hence no updates at all - sorry again!). Since I last updated I had a short story printed in my university's magazine, and wrote another 3, pretty hefty, novel chapters (which acted as my dissertation - I aced it, and got some awesome praise from my mentor which made me cry tears of pure joy) and moved back home from uni. I'm now working on a self imposed deadline of one year with the novel...** _ **and**_ **I've also just applied for a full-time job in what might be my dream professional writing career, with the exception of general novel writing, so please send good vibes/prayers/whatever you're into because there are no words for how happy I'll be/how much better my life will be if I get this - it's the chance of a lifetime, and it would mean that I'd no longer have to rely solely on getting a novel published to achieve the dream of making a career out of writing (because even then, most writers need to do other jobs to sustain themselves unless they get Harry Potter levels of success). Getting the job might also increase my chances of getting a novel published, really, since I'd already be a legit writer. I meet all of the requirements for the job so it looks like it could come down to how I measure up against whatever competition I have and how the interview goes (if I get one!).**


	27. Chapter 26

**A/N: Tara processes the revelation, Cat talks to the boys, and we finally get an insight into what's going on in Dwayne's head. This chapter is a couple of weeks later than I'd have liked, but it's still like 3 months faster than some of the others. I'm also going to continue the thing of sending a paragraph of the next chapter to reviewers (once I have a paragraph that I can send, so response times might vary a bit from chapter to chapter) because it's nice to have something sort of substantial to respond to people with, and hopefully makes up for the wait.**

* * *

The silence that followed Dwayne's words threatened to consume them both whole. Tara repeated the words over and over in her head, waiting for the moment where she'd realise he'd said something else entirely - something that made any kind of sense. Except...they did make sense. In a weird, twisted, reality defying kind of way.

She had been waiting for so long for some piece of information that made everything fall into place, frustrated when each and every half-mad theory that jumped into her head would fit in with some parts of the enigma that was the Lost Boys, only to be disproven by others. But this?...This fit in with it all. From the bigger parts like the sight of Cat and Paul caked in blood, to the smaller things that had simply niggled at her in the back of her mind, such as the confusion of Cat's actual age. Plus, she knew for a fact she had never seen any of them during the day.

Shifting in his arms, Tara looked up at him in alarm, not quite possessing the presence of mind to move away just yet. He had paled - noticeable even in the dim lighting of her bedroom - and was staring at the wall ahead. Could he not even bring himself to look at her?

"...What?" She asked, if only to fill the silence.

A second passed, and then Dwayne laughed slightly, untensing and removing his arms from around her "You should've seen your face. Goddamn, you really fell for that?"

Removing herself from his lap, she stayed close and scrutinised his face. Sure he was laughing, but there was something off about it. It had taken too long for him to break his silence, and his smile didn't reach his eyes - the ones that had so far refused to meet her gaze. Even as she stared at him all of the puzzle pieces were falling into place. The standoffish-ness of the boys, Cat's relationship with her family (or lack thereof), and even-

A ragged laugh came from her throat. This caught Dwayne's attention, the hope on his face telling her he thought she'd bought it.

"The Lost Boys," she said slowly "The boys who wouldn't grow up. It's clever."

She could practically see Dwayne's heart sink as he stood as though expecting her to run "Tara-"

"David come up with it? It sounds like something he'd think of," she murmured numbly, sinking into her desk chair a few feet away from the bed "Practically telling us all who - _what -_ you are and still having everybody be none the wiser…"

There was a small voice remaining in the back of her head, insisting that it couldn't be true. That Dwayne was pulling her leg and the longer she believed him, the more shit she'd get for it when it inevitably turned out to be a joke. Sure, she'd always been drawn to the spookier things in life, but there was a glaring difference between wondering if the shadow she'd glimpsed out of the corner of her eye was a ghost, and believing that the guy she liked was a goddamn _vampire_. But fighting that small voice were the memories of every odd joke she'd heard between them and not understood. Everything that had ever confused her about them. And about Dwayne.

He had given up on arguing with her, and was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. Evidently he'd expected hysteria. In all honesty, Tara had no idea why it wasn't there. Instead there was just...numbness. Like her brain was too busy processing the information for now, but she could feel the promise of a reaction bubbling away somewhere inside her. It would reach a boiling point inevitably, but for now there was nothing.

"This is why you won't let yourself like me," it dawned on her "It's not me...it's you."

Apparently there really were some scenarios where the old cliche of "it's not you, it's me" really did apply. Then there was one emotion, relief. Relief that all of the rejection she'd been feeling and brooding over wasn't necessarily real. Well, not in the way she'd thought it had been. It wasn't personal.

Dwayne remained standing, hovering in the center of her room and staring at her in a cross between astonishment and disbelief. His stance remained tense, as though he expected her to bolt from the room screaming at any moment. Hell, she probably should have been. Instead she stared back, seeing him in a whole new light. He was immortal. Shit, how old _was_ he? No wonder he seemed so mature (well, at times), and wise, and...well, patient. Here was a man with literally all the time in the world at his feet. And through it all, she'd caught his interest.

This thought emboldened her. She'd never been the type to validate herself based on if a guy liked her - she'd made a conscious effort _not_ to do that, and it was precisely why the rejection she'd felt from Dwayne had annoyed her so much. Not the rejection itself, but the fact that it had bothered her at all. Up until then, her policy on such matters had been to shrug it off and move on. But now she knew that it was impersonal, and that he was interested, and that he was almost literally above mere mortals, there was something intoxicating about the fact that she'd caught his attention. That of the stoic, immovable Lost Boy. And yet somehow, somewhere in that mind of his, he cared about her enough to share this. Whether he had truly intended to or not. That fact touched her enough to dearly hope he wouldn't be made to regret it.

He seemed torn as he stood there, clearly seeming to think he should do _something_ but entirely unsure as to _what_ that something was. Tara had a feeling she didn't want to know what options he was weighing. The conflict in the furrow of his brow said enough. The revelation was a lot of things - horrifying, logic-defying...and strangely liberating. Now that she didn't feel like she was wandering around blindly, she could move with some semblance of confidence. And she was determined to do that before the knowledge really sunk in. So far, the shock of it had her feeling oddly accepting, but that didn't mean it was a good thing. People could accept death right before the end. She wanted to act while she could.

When she stood he scrutinised her openly, anticipating some kind of break for it. It was clear he had no idea how to react when she walked _towards_ him. Tara wondered if this was the first time a Lost Boy had ever been lost for words. He stood his ground as she got closer, even looking faintly impressed at her lack of hysteria so far. It was a good thing she was saving that for when she was alone.

He stood his ground as she approached - she'd expect nothing less of him, really - as the suspicion on his face gave way to a vague sort of interest. Like she'd impressed him. When she got into his personal space she found herself grateful that she was tall for a girl, otherwise she'd likely have to hold onto his shoulders for leverage, which would make her entire show a whole lot less impressive. She only stopped when their lip were inches apart, leaving him to decide where things would go next.

Of course, it was only in that moment, with his dark eyes boring down into her, that it occurred to Tara that he could rip her throat out then and there if he felt like it. That shouldn't have sent a thrill down her spine, but it did. And then there was the fact that although he _could_ , he hadn't yet. That had to count for something. Right? The silence in the room threatened to engulf her, until he broke it by giving a quiet huff of laughter that she felt brush against her lips.

Taking it as a rejection at best and mockery at worst, her heart sank and she moved to take a step back. After all, she wasn't the type to actively chase rejection. Before she could move away, though, one of his hands shot out and grabbed her wrist. At first her heart skipped a beat, the danger of the situation she was in seeping through the shock and chilling her. But his grip was gentle. Instead of doing anything terrible, he tugged her closer again and pulled her into the kiss she'd just tried to initiate.

Normally with Dwayne, everything turned into one delightful blur before long. Tonight, however, was...different. Tara found herself hyper-aware of every sensation - the way his stubble scratched her face, the calluses on the fingers of the hand that slid up the back of her neck to tangle itself in her hair, causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin. A low growl sounded from the back of his throat as he grew more aggressive - and delightfully so. Finally, she felt like she was seeing the real Dwayne. No more energy being wasted on lies or suspicion. It was scary, baffling and thrilling all at once. Maybe this was why he seemed to feel hotter than usual as she tugged his jacket from him and practically flung it across the room before allowing him to back her up towards the bed. It was affecting her equally, with her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Could he hear it? Whether it was the adrenaline in her veins, survival instincts, or something else entirely, she didn't care. She was just relieved that he was finally doing _something_ \- and this 'something' was definitely the best of all possible outcomes that had been rolling through her mind.

It wasn't until after, when she was spent and losing spectacularly in a battle against sleep, that the image of the boardwalk's missing person's board swam hazily through her mind before vanishing again as she slipped into oblivion.

* * *

Cat had learned a few things over the years, living with the Lost Boys. While Paul would probably argue that the most important thing she'd learned was how to give a stellar striptease to Guns n' Roses' _Rocket Queen_ , the truly most important lesson she'd learned was that they - the Lost Boys as a whole - couldn't keep secrets from each other. Not if life was to run smoothly. After all, they were together for eternity, so it wouldn't do to spend that living in a tangled web. She'd learned it the hard way, too, in the aftermath of helping Jamie out of Santa Carla - she'd been terrified that none of her siblings would ever speak to her again because of her deception, and stunned by how much she missed them during that time. No matter how much she might preserve the peace by keeping Tara's questions quiet, she had to tell them. In any case, Paul had a right to know. She hated to imagine him making an effort with the girl, oblivious to what she seemed to think of him.

They returned to the cave without Dwayne, who disappeared not long after Tara before Cat had a chance to say anything. The remaining three Lost Boys were well aware of her soured mood, if the questioning glances they shot her way every now and then were any indication. She would have told them back on the beach, if she hadn't known that Paul would immediately break down Tara's door and demand answers. He had a temper on him at times - not that she could blame him. Her own anger was still there, buzzing beneath her skin.

Once in the cave she retreated to the alcove to gather her thoughts while the boys lit the oil drums, got the music started and the joints rolled. She tugged on a pair of leggings and one of Paul's t-shirts before meticulously plaiting her hair to keep it out of her way. Then, just to play for more time, she removed her lipstick more carefully than she ever had. Her eyeliner was a little smudged at the corner of her eyes, but that was common ever since she'd joined her newfound family, given how much she often laughed with them, and therefore scrunched up her face. It was odd, given how...well, traumatising her initiation had been, she never would have guessed that her new family would make her laugh harder and more often than she ever had around anybody else. Then she remembered her mother's letters, still in David's possession, and felt guilty for even thinking about the happiness she'd found, nevermind finding it in the first place.

When she reemerged, tugging her shawl around herself, the boys perked up and each shot her their own version of a curious look.

"The British are coming," David commented with a smirk.

Cat snorted tiredly.

"Oooh, now we know she's in a bad mood, not appreciating your comedic genius," Marko snickered, hurling a joint at her.

"That one kinda lost its humour when Paul said it during sex," she deadpanned as she caught it, but was unable to stop herself from laughing at the look of pure pride on Paul's face.

"You didn't," Marko groaned as David buried his face in his hands, as though to block out the conversation.

"Hell yeah I did," Paul grinned, snickering as he pulled her down to curl up at his side.

"Oh Jesus," Marko shook his head, laughing as he did "A soulmate is wasted on you, man."

"Pfff you just _wish_ you had as much game as me. C'mon, babe, back me up here. Tell Marko tales of how I swept you off your feet."

"Uh….Well…" she made a show of pretending to struggle to think of anything, before offering teasingly "You're the only guy I've ever known who can pull off white jeans?"

"Traitor," he gave her a prod to the ribs in revenge, making her squirm.

She proceeded to watch with fond amusement as the conversation between the two Lost Boys devolved into good-natured bickering, twirling the end of her plait around her fingertips. She'd have to tell them before the night was through, but for now she was content to bask in the revelry before she was forced to ruin it. But all too soon the conversation turned naturally to Tara, and she knew she'd have to speak up then and there.

"You talk like you're the only one with a girl. Maybe Dwayne's comin' after your reputation," Marko snorted at his brother.

"Dwayne hasn't got a girl, Dwayne's got a pet," Paul rolled his eyes, leaning back.

Cat caught the way David's gaze shifted to her, probably expecting her to leap to Tara's defense. It was obvious he caught the way her lips twisted into an admittedly petty smirk when he began to stare at her with renewed interest sparking in those sharp eyes of his.

"Cat, you wanna share with the group?" He prodded.

The bickering between the two brothers died as quickly as it had begun, quickly picking up on her twitchiness. Shooting David an unamused look - and then Paula hesitant one - she began to force herself to speak, a sinking feeling already making itself at home in the pit of her stomach.

"Tara asked me something pretty, uh...fucked up this evening."

Almost subconsciously she reached to her side and clasped Paul's hand in hers. He squeezed it and leaned closer.

"She want in your pants?" Marko teased.

Despite herself, Cat snickered at how similar his response had been to her own, back when Tara had been working up the balls to begin her grilling. They really did spend too much time together.

"No, it...Well…"

It seemed the girl had been right about one thing - there really was no delicate way to put it. So Cat mustered her annoyance over the whole thing, knowing it would override any dread of the trouble it would cause.

"She asked me if Paul was hurting me."

She didn't want to look at Paul as she said it, but she made herself do so. The revelation brought three different reactions. Marko let out a choked laugh of disbelief, and David frowned deeply, with one eyebrow twitching ever so slightly - the tell that always told her when he was trying to solve a dilemma. He had a knack for skipping past emotional reactions and getting straight to the problem solving. She could see the cogs turning. As for Paul, his face went slack and he stared at her as though waiting for a punchline. Her heart clenched and she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.

"She...She was kidding right?" Marko was the first to speak, looking between them all "I mean, has she _met_ you two?!"

"Evidently there are 'red flags'," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"What did you say?" David asked.

"I said 'yeah, every Tuesday night he whips out a baseball bat and goes to town' - what do you _think_ I said?" she rubbed an eye tiredly and grimaced when her finger came back smudged with eyeliner "I asked her if she was joking, and _then_ I told her she was batshit, in so many words. I just about managed to keep a lid on my temper."

One corner of David's lips twitched, but the situation at hand stopped him from being too amused. When Paul still didn't say anything, she turned her attention back to him, the worry in her chest knotting itself tighter.

"Paul?" She asked softly, nudging for a response.

He looked from her, to David, to Marko, and then back to her again. Then he started cracking up. Leaning back, he shook his head as genuine laughter overtook him.

"What an _asshole_ , man," he shook his head.

"You're okay?" she blinked.

"I'm not gonna cry because some mortal doesn't approve of us," he snickered, shaking his head "I just can't believe I thought she seemed half-cool. Jesus _Christ_."

"I know," Cat sighed in agreement.

Her feelings of disappointment at the turn of events were a tad more genuine than her boyfriend's, however.

" _Please_ tell me we can ditch this bitch, now," Paul looked around the group for a consensus.

Cat threw her hands up in dismissal. It was a disappointing outcome in the grand scheme of things, but also the kind of thing she probably should have expected. And one that Tara was bringing on herself. In an ideal world maybe they'd be able to pretend it had never happened, but the walk back to the bonfire after her little interrogation had been one of the most awkward walks of Cat's life. The walls were firmly reconstructed and reinforced - whether the walls belonged to herself, to Tara, or little bit of both didn't really matter at this point. If they tried to grin and bear it, she knew things would only get more awkward. She'd spend the entire time wondering what was going on behind Tara's eyes. What was worse was that she knew the girl would likely spend the entire time wondering something similar about what happened between herself and Paul behind closed doors. How long had she been watching them and coming up with her mad theories? - And where _had_ her theories come from, anyway? There was no smoke without fire, but she was certain that the fire in this case was certainly _not_ her relationship.

"That's a conversation to have when all of us are home," David shot a speculative look to the mouth of the cave "Pointless talking about it all now only to repeat it all over again once Dwayne shows up."

At this they all nodded in agreement, although Cat and Paul shared a look. Dwayne's input could be another issue in itself, if what she and Paul had speculated over in private was true.

"Always thought she'd be the type to never be able to say boo to a ghost," Marko commented, pulling her from her worries.

"Goose." Cat corrected absentmindedly.

"Huh?"

"It's goose. _Boo to a goose_. That's the idiom."

"Nah, it's ghost. Why would you say boo to a goose?"

"Why would you say boo to a _ghost_? That's the ghost's job," Paul interjected, seeming pleased at the distraction, with the tension draining from his posture and his fingertips uptaking slow, lazy circles on her shoulder.

"You're just siding with her 'cause of her fancy degree," Marko gestured towards them in mock-accusation.

"There's a crapload of reasons for me to pick her side, and her fancy degree's got nothing to do with it," he gave a smug grin.

"Always figured hauntings were more hobbies than careers, anyway. Do ghosts have jobs?" Cat frowned "And I would point out that I never actually _got_ the degree."

Her classmates would've graduated a few years ago, actually. It was an odd thought. In one of the photo albums sent by Jamie was a snap from her entrance ceremony - garish robes and all. It had never occurred to her that she wouldn't be there for the other side of it all. But why would it? Nobody anticipates being...well, essentially, kidnapped by a group of vampires. Within a few decades said vampires would be people she'd known the longest, and spent the most time with, out of anybody else she'd ever known. At least she'd been lucky with the lot she'd been landed with in the end. The worry was slowly leaving her, and she relaxed contentedly into Paul's side.

Where thoughts like this would once ruin her mood for the night, now she greeted them with an odd feeling of acceptance. Not a thrilled one, but not the resigned kind of devastation that had been her forte in the beginning. The situation had gone from feeling like she was a passenger in a car crash, to now merely being an observer. She could remember everything clearly, but it was detached most of the time. She kept it that way for the sake of her sanity, everything locked tightly away in a nice little box in the back of her mind, with the occasional nightmare popping up to remind her things weren't quite that simple. It was just...the way things were. And so she plodded on with her life.

"Well, ghosts could have jobs. Vampires do," David spoke up, leaning back as he sparked a cigarette.

"They do?" Marko's brows raised.

"Mine's putting up with you assholes," he smirked before taking a long draw.

Knowing that this was simply David's way of showing affection - and of saving them from an hour of idiom-centric bickering - Cat simply laughed. The revelation had gone down surprisingly well. While she knew it was far from the last they'd heard of the matter (after all, Dwayne still hadn't been told and she knew there was at least _some_ ire in Paul that had yet to rise to the surface), getting the boys up to speed had been fair less painful than she'd anticipated. For all involved. But, again, Dwayne still wasn't back. How would he take it?

* * *

Dwayne rode slowly back to the cave, in no rush to get there. He was furious. With himself, with his situation, hell, with Tara too - if only for what she'd done to him. How she made him feel. Yeah, he had a lot to think on, but the only real thought going through his head was ' _you shouldn't have told her_ ' in the voices of his siblings. Gritting his teeth, his grip on the handlebars tightened as he glared into the space ahead. He knew he shouldn't have told her, he didn't need his brain to adopt the voices of his family to drive the point home. There'd be time enough for their flesh-and-blood counterparts to do so...If he told them. _When_ he told them, he corrected the thought before it had ended. He had to. They'd be pissed, some more than others, but that would be his burden to bear.

It wasn't like he'd even fully intended to tell her, goddamnit. She just kept asking and _asking_ , and getting more and more hysterical, and the words had been right there on the tip of his tongue the entire time, being dragged forward by her every question and her every sob. They were never supposed to slip out. It was a slightly similar thing to what he'd seen in Paul, back in his early days with Cat. The dark days (well, nights), back when she was struggling both to make the adjustment from normal girl to 'creature of the night' - and to forgive the one responsible for said change...and the death it had brought with it. Every so often the tension would hit a boiling point and they'd argue. Paul, not being equipped with the patience to handle said strife, could often only manage Cat's grief and anger with a level head for so long, before he'd respond to it with the most vicious words that he didn't mean at all, just for the petty satisfaction of having the last word, stunning Cat into silence, and ending the argument. The second he said whatever had seemed so tempting just moments before, however, his face would freeze as he immediately realised that a) he'd just said something really shitty and b) he didn't mean a word of it. It often ended in tears - Cat's, of course - but things would resolve themselves in the end.

Dwayne was relieved that those days were long behind them, but now he felt guilty for the exasperation he often felt when he'd see Paul get that look in his eye that said he was about to say something he'd regret, purely because the temptation was too overwhelming. He'd just outdone his brother in that department, after all - and in one fell swoop.

But what else could he have done? If he had continued with their plan of evasiveness above all else, she'd have sought out those two assholes from the comic book store first thing the next morning. Surely it was better to give her their own (admittedly skewed) version of the truth, rather than allow the Frogs the opportunity to tell her what they thought they knew? What else was he supposed to do? Kill her?

Yes. It was a bitter truth, but a truth nonetheless. Logically, he should have. He didn't need the detached voices of the Lost Boys in his head to tell him that much. It was a shame that his ability to listen to logic was so easily impaired by this one mortal. And worse than telling her - he simply left afterwards. After telling Cat the truth, Paul had taken her straight to the cave - granted, she'd been unconscious at the time. That probably made his job easier. But the comparison was pointless. What it all boiled down to was that Cat was Paul's soulmate. Tara wasn't his. The fact didn't bother him personally; it was a freak accident that Cat and Paul had even found each other, and Dwayne highly doubted the likelihood of any of the rest of their group finding their own. They could be long dead. Or born hundreds of years from now. Deep down, he doubted he'd even want to meet the chick, whoever she might be. Sure, he was happy for his brother and what he'd found, but he doubted he'd be able to stomach the risk himself. If Cat died, god forbid, he dreaded to think what would happen to Paul - and vice versa. They were a package deal now. He wouldn't want that responsibility, or that worry, on his own shoulders. He worried enough about it on his siblings' behalf.

But while it didn't bother Dwayne in that it didn't prevent his affection for Tara from growing (he wished it had), it was also why they didn't stand a chance. Six years on, they all loved Cat dearly. That didn't change the fact that back when she and Paul first met, if she hadn't been his soulmate, she wouldn't be one of them now. Hell, she'd been lined up as their next meal when they'd first spotted her - until Paul spoke up and shocked them all. No, he was glad that his existence wasn't tied so keenly to Tara's. He didn't want that for her - or from her. So what _did_ he want? In truth, he wished he fucking knew.

They all had their more human sides, although they usually only came out solely in Lost Boy company, but it was there. It showed in a series of ways, differently in each of them - in David's fierce protectiveness over all of his siblings (that he'd brush off as just 'not taking any shit' if any of them dared to point it out), in how quick Paul was to laugh and his ability to see the upside in any given situation - and the way in which this could shatter any kind of cynical facade Cat put on with merely a touch, smile or a dumb joke. In Marko it shone through in the fact that, despite the fact that their sister was technically the youngest in age, he was the eternal little brother of their unique little family. Dwayne had never been quite sure how it showed in his own behaviour - he'd never cared to think on it much. He had better things to do than psychoanalyse himself. All he knew was that, however it showed, it only did around his siblings. Until Tara moved to town.

" _Turn me_ ," she'd said.

It had been quiet, uttered in the afterglow. A murmur while she was half asleep that he wondered if she'd even fully meant to say out loud. So he had pretended not to hear, dressed, and left. Part of him had wanted to kiss her before he took his leave - a kiss with more innocence behind it than heat, although he doubted there was an innocent bone left in his body - but he didn't want to confuse things. Not more than he already had; if that were even possible. The temptation had been great, though. She'd looked like she belonged in one of her damned paintings, lying there half asleep, sprawled out decadently in the tangled sheets with her long hair fanning out across the pillow.

As pleased as he was by how well the encounter had gone, all things considered, he was highly doubtful that the full weight of the truth had yet to sink in with her - and he strongly suspected he'd be facing a barrage of questions the next night. What he also knew in that moment that there were very few girls out there like her. Even Cat had been a trembling mess when the truth came out. But Tara? She'd been intrigued. Hell, if he didn't know better he'd think she was even a little excited. Maybe it was that streak that drew him to her. The one that chose curiosity and intrigue over terror in any subject, no matter how morbid. But David wouldn't listen to that. "So let her go bang guys on death row," his brother would likely shrug.

Their policy was decidedly _not_ "the more the merrier" nowadays. Not anymore. Not since the debacle with Star and Michael. Everything would be a whole lot simpler if she was his soulmate, but she wasn't. However much he liked her, and however cool she seemed, didn't count for much because of that fact. After all, they'd liked Star in the beginning - and Michael well enough, too, he supposed. In the aftermath of that disaster, they'd come to a unanimous consensus. Liking somebody didn't count for shit. Not when it came to knowing their secrets, and _certainly_ not when it came to joining. David in particular was uncomfortable enough with Cat's brother - the one from her old life - knowing about them, regardless of the lack of a threat that he posed, and even the memory of that disastrous turn of events had him wincing.

It had always been them against the world, but if 'the world' now also included the mortal girl, Dwayne wasn't sure he wanted that. The trouble was, he could never say it.

After spending as long as he had with his brothers, he had a good idea of how each one would react to the news of Tara's enlightenment. It was this familiarity with each other that allowed them to communicate in a series of looks, nods, and grunts, if required. David would be out for blood, probably immediately. Once upon a time Paul might've been inclined to at least be sympathetic to Dwayne's side, if he was in a particularly mellow mood, but now that he had to concern himself with Cat's safety as well as his own, Dwayne didn't like his chances. Especially given the fact that the skeletons that Tara seemed intent to drag out of the closet belonged, mostly, to the couple. Marko would likely agree too, having always had a knack for putting the good of the group above the good of himself. Before tonight, Dwayne had always considered that one of his own finer qualities too. It was a strange situation to be in, resenting himself for being unable to kill her, whilst also being disappointed in himself for that very resentment. It was easier to be a cold-blooded murderer when you didn't know the person...or like them - who'd have thought? He could almost see the smug expression that would be on David's face when he found out.

Then there was Cat. She could go either way. Given her history and affinity for the girl, she could very well side with Dwayne. But while her history could work in his favour, it could also work against him. Cat had sacrificed more than any of them to join their ranks, and not by her own choice. She'd lost a lot in order to gain what she had now - which also likely meant she'd cling to what she had now incredibly strongly, and defend it fiercely. Anyway, even if he were to place his trust in his sister's sentimentality, it would still put them at two against three and ultimately mean nothing.

For the first time ever, pulling up on the cliffside next to their home made his heart sink.

* * *

 **A/N: I wanted Tara's reaction to be very different from Cat's because a) they're rather different people b) girl loves the occult c) I want the two stories to be very different - if she reacted in the same way Cat had, you guys may as well just go back and read the old story. So Cat faints and Tara takes off her clothes, and I can't personally fault either response. Don't worry though, she's not** _ **that**_ **chill about it - like I hinted, it hasn't actually all sunk in yet - it's really gonna hit her in the next chapter, especially regarding the grim realities that a vampiric diet would require.**

 **Inevitable personal ramble starts here, so feel free to stop reading now! Sooo I didn't get the job. I won't lie, it initially did a number on my mental health and I spent more time than I want to admit self-pitying (hence the wait), but I also recently got several unbelievably lovely reviews so I kept those in mind when I was tempted to be too disheartened. After all, they hadn't read any of my writing, or even met me, so I think it was based moreso on professional writing experience (or my lack thereof) than anything else. The job itself wasn't in novel writing anyway, so maybe it's for the best since that's what I love and do most - and now there's nothing to detract from the actual novel writing. Rejection is part of this whole thing so I just gotta put on my big girl pants, get over it, and keep writing. But yes, thank you guys for being so lovely so often - if it wasn't for how kind you all are about not just this story, but my writing in general, I'd be a much bigger mess right now. I know I thank you guys a lot but it's just a testament to how great you all are.**

 **Honestly 90% of the time I work on this when I feel shitty and need something to distract myself, so the fact that it's actually enjoyable to other people too makes me really happy and serves as great motivation!**


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